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Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky 


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THE ODDEST CHARACTERS ON THE PIKE 






















Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky’s 
Strange Adventures 

AT THE 

WORLD’S GREAT EXPOSITION 


BY 

HERSCHEL WILLIAMS 


TRIP FROM SKOWHEGAN 

THROUGH MANY CITIES TO THE GOAL OF THEIR AMBITION 
THE MARVELOUS EVENT OF THE CENTURY 


Quaint old couple leave home in ox-cart, return in automobile—Uncle 
Hob’s inspiration to see the world — A journey of exciting 
experiences bubbling over with sparkling fun—How they 
witnessed the gorgeous sights, and wonderful displays 
■—The most remarkable discussion of actual scenes 
and incidents ever recorded — Fascinating and 
charming romance of Ruth and Tom 


105 striking pen and ink sketches especially 
drawn for this work 


I CJIIPAQO .’> U; 

. . ) > » * > .» > ’ ’ ’ * \ 

, Laohx & ’Lttv »'PUBLi^Htens > 








Tz, 

'\a/ ^ n is 
My 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDles Received 

JUN 23 1904 

Coovrlsrht Entry 

/ 4, - 0 f- 

GLASS ^ XXc. No. 


H1]3 

copy e 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1904, 

By William H. Lee, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



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* 1 ‘ c ^ ‘ ‘ « < 

* • • 1 € * i < 



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CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER I. Bound for the World of Wonders, ... 5 

" II. The Hub, . 24 

" III. At Gotham, . 47 

“ IV. From the Quaker City to the City of Smoke, 75 

“ V Forest City and the City of the Straits, . 93 

“ VI. The City of the Winds, . 130 

“ VII. The Beautiful I wry City, . 198 

“ VIII. Startling and Thrilling Surprises, . . . 228 

" IX. The Wheel of Fortune Decides their 

Destiny, . 267 

“ X. Toward the Setting Sun — Ruth makes 

a discovery — Return home united, . 303 








The Beautiful Ivory City Extends Greetings 
to all Nations and Tribes • 



By the Father of the Waters, 

In the sunniest of lands, 

Crested with a thousand pennants, 
Lo! the magic city stands. 

In her streets and parks and fountains. 

On her buildings new and vast, 

Rest a stateliness and grandeur 
That have rever been surpassed. 

All the world in admiration. 

Views the jralaces of gilt 
In this matchless, dazzling city, 

Which Columbia has built. 















•I 

f jf Bound for the World of Wonders. 

T WAS a bright Aprii morning, and Aunt 
|| Becky Springer, having finished her 
household tasks, hastened to the barn¬ 
yard, tin pail in hand, to feed her 
feathered family, who quickly flocked about her. 

She was a tall, angular woman, with a florid com¬ 
plexion and sandy’ hair, and on this occasion she 
wore a calico dress, pinned high enough to reveal 
her striped stockings and a pair of oilcloth slippers. 
In response to the familiar call, a brood of high¬ 
bred, fat Partridge Cochins, Plymouth Rocks, a sol¬ 
itary Shanghai rooster and a few quacking ducks 
and geese flew to greet her, for to them Aunt Becky 
was a gracious queen, whose bounty never dimin¬ 
ished. 

To the left was the low frame farm-house, covered 
with straggling vines and guarded by apple trees 
and luxuriant shrubbery, which stretched their 
long branches toward the blue sky; to the right, 

fringed with a dense forest, were the barren fields 

5 






6 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


of the Springer farm; while in the distance the foot¬ 
hills shimmered in a purple haze. 

“Becky! Becky!” shouted an excited masculine 
voice, and in a moment Uncle Bob Springer, who 
had passed his sixtieth milestone, still hale and 
hearty, with keen eyes, a round, ruddy face, and a 
wide girth that bespoke a love for the comforts of 
life, rushed through the old swinging gate, startling 
the fowls and causing them to scatter in every 
direction. 

“For goodnpss sake, Bob, what’s the matter!” 
cried Aunt Becky. “What on earth ails you? Have 
you got one of your cranky spells again?” 

“See, Becky! Hi Pratt gave me a book that tells 
all about the World’s Fair’ at St. Louis,” he con¬ 
tinued, pulling from his pocket a highly-embellished 
pamphlet, which he began to read aloud. 

“Don’t believe everything you see in print, Bob,” 
interrupted Aunt Becky, with her usual skepticism. 
“You know we never went to a circus yet that was 
advertised big, that we didn’t get fooled on it. I 
hope you haven’t sot your mind on going. Remem¬ 
ber that Skowhegan, Maine, is a good many miles 
from old St. Louis, and it’ll cost a heap to get 
there.” 

“It don’t make a bit of difference. I’ll go if I 
have to mortgage the farm and every old hen, pig 


BOUND FOB THE WORLD OF WONDERS 7 


and elderberry bush on the place. I know you think 
I'm powerful extravagant, and leetle by leetle I’ve 
let my property slip through my fingers, till I only 
have one hundred and forty acres left, and not half 
of that improved; but, by the big horn spoon, if my 
life is spared, I’ll come back and harvest a crop 
this summer that’ll pay for all the fun we’ll have.” 

“But, like as not, we’ll get mangled in a railroad 
wreck, or held up by robbers, or mebbe get there 
just in time to wind up in a conflagration,” pro¬ 
tested Aunt Becky, seating herself upon an inverted 
keg. 

“Yes, but in spite of them risks, there are several 
reasons why we ort to go. They say the hull world 
is going to be there,” persisted Uncle Bob, and then 
a look of pain settled upon his face, as he added, 
tremulously: “And who knows but that our poor 
boy, Tom, who left home twenty years ago this 
month, will be there too?” 

“Don’t talk nonsense, Bob. The good Lord alius 
does everything at the right time, and I reckon if 
our son is alive and it is His will for him to be 
there, nothing can keep him away,” said Aunt 
Becky, wiping the tears from her eyes with the cor¬ 
ner of her gingham apron. “I don’t believe the poor 
boy’s living now". It was all my fault that he left 
home. I kept nagging at him from morning till 


8 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


night, like an old Cossack, because he didn’t amount 
to more, and at last he got tired of it and said he’d 
leave home, never to return until his fortune was 
made. I understand now how many well-meaning 
women have drove their sons and husbands and 
everybody else around ’em right into the clutches of 
Old Satan by their continual nagging.” 

“Now, Becky, don’t get to worrying again about 
Tom, for you tried to do your dooty and he’ll fetch 
up here all right one of these days. I know he will 
—I feel it,” said Uncle Bob, patting the bowed 
head of his faithful wife. 

The conversation growing more intense, she 
unconsciously dropped the pail, filled with corn 
and oats, and walking to the old frame house they 
seated themselves upon a rustic bench. As Aunt 
Becky looked at the pamphlet, with its realistic 
pictures of the beautiful buildings and statuary 
representing the fourteen states of the Louisiana 
Purchase, her faded eyes glowed with unusual 
eagerness as she continued to delve deeper into its 
contents. 

“La sakes, Bob, them buildings must be grand!” 
she finally exclaimed, in delight. “There’s one with 
a cupalo big enough to cover the hull county fair 
at Skowhegan—live stock exhibit and all.” 

“Yes, and it says that $33,227,986 have been ap- 


BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 9 


propriated so fur and there’s more to toiler, and the 
grounds cover 1,240 acres,” added Uncle Bob, bend¬ 
ing over her and turning the leaves with his clumsy 
fingers. 

“Ruth would enjoy it, wouldn’t she?” said Aunt 
Becky thoughtfully. 

“Yes, that’s another reason why we ort to go,” 
responded her husband promptly. “We’ve educated 
her in the Skowhegan school and bought her a 
pianner and a fiddle and everything else a gal ort 
to have, and she’s to settle down to teaching school 
in the fall. We ort to put the finishing touches on 
her education by takin’ her to see the grand show. 
She told me the other day she’d die if she couldn’t 
get out of Maine for a few weeks and see a leetle of 
the world. This is the Louisian^^ Purchase Fair, 
they call it, and Ruth was born in Louisianny, and 
she ought to go, and we would not be doing our duty 
not to take her.” 

“That’s so,” responded Aunt Becky with alacrity. 
“You can mortgage the farm if you want to and 
we’ll trust to Providence to git out of debt. Just 
think, Bob, Ruth’s been with us ever since she was 
about a year and a half old, and she’ll be eighteen in 
August. Land knows, the poor child hain’t seen 
very much. Still, when we come to think of it, it 
was a providential thing that she fell into our 


10 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


hands. When the boss at the poor-house told how 
the poor young mother ran away from a cruel and 
shiftless husband way down in Louisianny, and 
came here tryin’ to get as fur away from him as she 
could, it made my heart ache. To think that poor 
woman didn’t have no money, and that little puny 
baby likely to die any minute! How anyone could 
have resisted her pitiful appeal is more than I can 
understand. I never have blamed her for wantin’ 
to go back to her folks. I am sure, Bob, that neither 
of us have or ever will regret our promise to that 
poor, misguided, dying mother.” 

Again the florid, time-worn face was buried in the 
gingham apron, and sobs shook the bent, gaunt 
form; but Uncle Bob, equal to any emergency, 
changed the conversation. 

“Now, Becky, don’t take on so. You’ve done your 
part and the Lord won’t ever hold up anything ag’in 
you. Ruth is purtier than her mother. She’s too 
tarnation good for any of them Skow-hegan bump¬ 
kins—Lige Knaggs, for example.” 

“La sakes, Bob! I’d rather see her dead than 
married to such an apology of a human being as 
Lige Knaggs,” cried Aunt Becky, in alarmed dis¬ 
gust, forgetting her previous sorrow. 

“She’s the purtiest gal in these parts,” he added, 
his eyes flashing brightly. “I was looking over her 


BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 11 


collection of fancy pictures yisterday, and blamed 
if I could find her equal when it came to looks. The 
Countess Topeka—or whatever her name is—looks 
like an Indian cigar sign beside her. You can have 

your Stanslaw gals, 
with their snub noses, 
and your Gibson gals, 
with their stuck-up 
chins and broom-handle 
necks; but give me a 
Burton gal every time. 
When I seed her out 
feeding the chickens 
Bother day, with that 
Shanghai rooster 
perched on one shoul¬ 
der and her pink sun- 
bonnet on, with a dish- 
pan in her hands, I 
thought to myself, how 
much more artistic and 
nearer to nature a pie¬ 
rce Skinny Stanslaw Girl. ture like that would be, 
than a gangly society gal, fiddling with a dinky 
tea-pot.” 

“Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob!” shouted a sweet, girlish 






12 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



u TU go , Becky , if I have to mortgage the farm , every cow and 
old hen on the place.” 



BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 13 


voice, which seemed to be the dominating chord of 
spring-time. 

He turned quickly, his mouth spreading and his 
eyes beaming in happy expectation, for the object 
of his apostrophe was approaching—a trim, little 
lass, in a spotless blue frock. 

She was bareheaded and stray ringlets retel- 
liouslv peeped from the dark coil that rested upon 
her neck; her face was fair and exquisitely flushed 
with the exuberance of youth and early spring; 
deep dimples, a perfect mouth, and an adorable chin 
added to her charms. Her large, animated, brown 
eyes with their sweeping lashes and delicate, arched 
brows compelled one to admit that Ruth Burton 
was truly as beautiful as the Psyche of some im¬ 
mortal painter. 

“Oh, Uncle Bob, what have you got? Something 
about St. Louis? Oh dear, how I wish we could go. 
Can’t we, Uncle Bob? Why can’t we all go to the 
Exposition? Neither you nor Aunt Becky have been 
out of the county since you were married.” 

“Wal, child, it does seem as though you were talk¬ 
in’ the wind out of our sails. That is just what me 
and your Aunt Becky were talkin’ about. Yes, we 
are goin’, and you kin depend upon it. We’re goin’ 
to Bosting, too, and we’ll see the quaint people that 
don’t eat nothin’ but baked beans and brown bread; 


14 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



Ruth’s Favorite Pastime . 






BOUND FOB THE WORLD OF WONDERS 16 


and then we are going to New York, and see Tam¬ 
many Hall, the statues and other old relics, and the 
other big towns between here and St. Louis. No 
more seven-up, with a bar’l of hard cider on the 
side, in Hi Pratt’s barn for me, for a right smart 
spell.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad—so very happy!” cried the girl, 
throwing her arms about her guardian’s neck and 
impartially extending her caresses to Aunt Becky. 
“But where will you get the money, Uncle?” 

“Oh, I’ll attend to the financial part of it, leetle 
gal, and all you need to do is to get ready,” replied 
the old man evasively. 

“But what shall we wear?” 

“Just like a woman! That’s the first thing that 
comes in her head, no matter whether she’s going 
to a picnic or a funeral. You kin fix up just as 
smart as you please, and mebbe you kin give some 
pointers to Becky about dressing. Git her to make 
over that China silk with the purple roses that she’s 
had laying away in moth-balls for three years, for 
there might be some big doings out there, and as 
I expect to run on the Republican ticket for county 
drain commissioner next fall, we’re liable to git 
bids. If I was you, Becky, I’d wear a few extry 
underskirts or that pair of hoops you have stowed 
away in the garret. They’re coming in style ag’in; 


16 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 








BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 17 


or else a polenay or something that flares out, just 
to build out your Agger a leetie more, and—wal, I 
hope you’ll git a new hat, for you’ve worn that best 
one of yours, with the brown feather reared up, till 
it’s become one of the landmarks of Skowhegan.” 

“Yes, and if I was you, Bob, I’d slick up a leetie 
bit, too, unless you want to be a scarecrow to keep 
off them vultures and other birds of prey that’ll be 
hovering over the big circus,” said Aunt Becky. 
“I sha’n’t delude anybody into thinking that I’m 
a society belle,,and if one of them kodak fiends, 
I hear so much about, strikes off a picture of us, 
unbeknown to me, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” 

The morning for the departure dawned a week 
later. After a hearty breakfast, piling the baggage 
into an old farm ox-cart, amid the shouts and w r ell- 
wishes of some of the neighbors, who had gathered 
to bid them bon voyage, with a crack of the whip, 
Buck and Bright pulled out, seemingly willing to do 
their part to give them a good start. 

“Folks won’t think we’re stuck-up when they see 
how ’umble we look now,” said Aunt Becky, who 
feared ostentation. “Widder Slant said yisterday 
that she expected we would be too big-feeling to 
look at common folks when we get back from that 
old Missouri town, way out yonder, after mingling 
with all the big L bugs in the country,” 


18 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



Bidding the neighbors farewell, they leave for the World*s Great Fair — 
a scene of Beauty and Splendor , 







BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 19 


“We don’t care a rap what Widder Slant says or 
thinks,” snapped Uncle Bob sharply. “She’s alius 
talking about her neighbors and hurting every¬ 
body’s feelings. If you want to git a rumor in cir¬ 
culation, all you need to 
do is to tell it to her con¬ 
fidentially. She’s a gos¬ 
sip, if there ever was one, 
and she looks like she’d 
taken laughing-gas for 
erisipelas, and never got 
over the effects of either, 
with her red, simpering 
face. Don’t worry about 
her back-biting, Becky. 

We’re going to stick close 
to nature.” 

“Here’s Rover following 
us,” exclaimed Ruth, giv¬ 
ing vent' to a tuneful 
laugh. “Wouldn’t it be 
great fun to take him 
along?” 

“It’S most all we kin do “ Widow Slant look, like she’d taken 

laughm gas for erisipelas ” 

to look after ourselves, 

without being pestered with a dog,” protested Aunt 




20 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Becky. “The idea! Takin’ that animal along will 
make people talk.” 

“I don’t care what they say; we’re going for com¬ 
fort,” put in Uncle Bob, with emphasis. “That dog 
has been in our family a great many years, and he’s 
been more loyal than a lot of our professing friends. 
I’m going to take him along and let him have a good 



“Here's Rover following us." 


have special days for everything at the Fair—one 
day for Injianny, tw T o days for Illinois, three days 
for Missouri, and mebbe they’ll have dog days, too.” 

Rover, a very unloVely mongrel, of uncertain gene- 
alogy, was summoned and lifted into the wagon, 
amid shouts of laughter from Ruth and expostula¬ 
tions from Aunt Becky, who sarcastically suggested 
that they had better take Buck and Bright, the 
oxen, along, too, so as not to show partiality. 





BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 21 


Although it was early in the morning, quite a 
delegation from Skowhegan and vicinity awaited 
them at the depot to bid them 
God-speed. Among the number 
were Lige Knaggs, a raw, un¬ 
gainly fellow, with bow-legs, 
who slipped into Ruth’s hands 
a package of peppermint and 
cinnamon drops, and a bundle 
containing a celluloid work- !% 
box of startling handicraft, tied 
with pink baby ribbon; Mrs. 

Hoskins and her six youngest 
children; some members of the 
Band of Hope Temperance Soci¬ 
ety, to which Aunt Becky be¬ 
longed; Rube Wattles and his 
daughter, Mahala Ann; and 
even Widow Slant, who was the 
most gracious of the party. 

“It’s real moving to see how 
the people do respect us. I 
don’t believe the President ever 
had such a send-off,” said Aunt 
Becky, pressing her kerchief to 
her eyes and sniffing gently. 

“Maybe they’re glad we are going to leave,” 



j Bow-legged and freckle- 
*aced Lige Knaggs. 









22 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


laughed Ruth, giving her benefactors a little hug, 
as she jumped from the wagon to meet the delega¬ 
tion on the platform. 

“It’s powerful good in our neighbors to leave their 
work and turn out to see us off,” said Aunt Becky, 
after she had shaken hands all around. “I feel 
something like the Queen of Sheba must have felt 
before she was led forth on parade in a triumphal 
procession. Where’s Bob gone to?” 

“Here I be,” replied her spouse, as he emerged 
from the depot, with a broad smile encircling his 
genial face. “I got Rover tied, and paid a dollar 
to git him sent from here to Bosting in the baggage 
car. They wanted to argue me out of taking him, 
but I’m that dod-gasted set in my head, a pile-driver 
couldn’t make no impression on me. Now, since the 
dog’s provided fur, I’ll go ’round and speak to the 
folks. 

“Good morning, Mis’ Hoskins; how be you and the 
children? Good morning, Widder Slant; you’re 
looking as fresh as usual. If I run across an old 
widower that’s suitable for you, I’ll box him up with 
Rover and bring him back.” 

The train w T histled, and the last farewells were 
spoken; the satchels, band-boxes and other pack¬ 
ages were thrown aboard; Rover, yelling and snap¬ 
ping viciously, was unceremoniously tossed into the 


BOUND FOR THE WORLD OF WONDERS 23 


baggage-car, and Uncle Bob, Aunt Becky and the 
prettiest girl in Skowhegan waved adieu from the 
rear platform. 

Mahala Ann Wattles sang the chorus of “We’ll 
Never Say Goodbye in Heaven,” but her cracked 
voice was drowned by the blank cartridges fired by 
Hi Pratt; the women waved their hands and ker¬ 
chiefs, and a few politicians shouted loyally: 

“What’s the matter with Uncle Bob Springer!” 

“He’s all right!” was the hearty response. 

“And—and pretty Ruth Burton’s all right, too!” 
stammered Lige Knaggs, blushing furiously; but the 
peals of derisive laughter were lost in the roar and 
whistle of the train as it pulled out from the little 
station on its rapid flight to Boston. 



“ Peals of laughter were lost in the roar of the train as it pulled out 
of the little station. ” 













willI f The Hub * 

UNT BECKY at first insisted that a 
wreck would be sure to result from 
such terrific speed, and in vain implored 
the conductor to slow up, but finally she regained 
her composure; and Ruth amused herself watching 
the rail fences and scattered hamlets flit by them, 
too happy to chatter away as usual. 

Uncle Bob, who had made his way through the 
long train, at the risk of breaking his neck, to as¬ 
certain if Rover was being treated with due con¬ 
sideration, finally approached his wife and said, 
loud enough for everybody in the car to hear: 

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Becky. I didn’t ex¬ 
pect to tell you till we got to St. Louis, but it’s too 
good to keep. I got an invitation from the manage¬ 
ment of a big hotel there, built in the fair grounds, 
telling me to bring my family and all my friends 
to stay with ’em as long as we wanted to. It must 
have been sent by some one that knew I was a poli¬ 
tician, about to run fur county drain commissioner.” 

24 


THE HUB 


25 


“There must be some kind of a hoax about it,” 
said Aunt Becky, dubiously. “Like as not, it’s a 
den of iniquity, and they'll git us in there and strip 
us of our belongings, and then kick us out the back 
door without even a change of linen or an umberell. 
Fve heard of ’em doing sich things in them big 
cities.” 

“Of course you’d have to be skeptical, Becky, and 
that kind of people are alius the ones that git bun¬ 
coed, you know,” replied Uncle Bob, somewhat irri¬ 
tably. “They say this hotel has 1,000 rooms, and I 
s’pose they heard I was coming and sent us the in¬ 
vitations. You know an enterprise is never a suc¬ 
cess unless the big bugs endorse it, and I s’pose they 
want to use my influ’nce in Skowhegan. I had a 
notion to bring all our neighbors along, to help fill 
up the rooms, but I didn’t want to be bothered with 
the responsibility of looking after them and the 
dog, too.” 

“I wish we could have brung Mis’ Hoskins,” said 
Aunt Becky. “Mebbe President Roosevelt would 
have sent her a pass, since he has sich an admira¬ 
tion for big families. You know she has the biggest 
raft of young uns in the county.” 

“The imitation said the hotel was run on both 
the European and American plans,” resumed Uncle 
Bob. 


26 


XJNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

“And which are you going to take?” asked Ruth. 

“American, of course. Do you s’pose I’d let any¬ 
body think I was a foreigner and git gulled out of 
my eye teeth? The American plan is good enough 
for me and there’s less danger of an honest farmer 
gifting robbed of his money, if he sticks to that 
system.” 

“Mebbe you’ll change your tune when you’ve seen 
more of Americky,” said Aunt Becky, with an ex¬ 
asperating smile of superiority. 

Boston, the great Hub of the Universe, was finally 
reached, and Uncle Bob began to scramble for his 
satchels and bundles, elbowing people right and left 
in his attempt to get out of the car. 

“For mercy sake, Becky, hurry up; we’ll be left 
sure!” he shouted excitedly. 

“This is as far as we go, so you needn’t trample all 
the passengers under foot,” said the conductor in a 
tone of authority. 

“At Skowhegan the train stops two minutes, and 
that’s a rather slow town; so I s’posed you only 
waited here about a minute,” said Uncle Bob, some¬ 
what confused. 

“Say, Mister, ain’t you going to pay for them 
novels, horehound candy and salted peanuts I gave 
you,” said the train boy, interrupting the speaker. 

“Why, sich principle!” exclaimed Aunt Becky in 


THE HUB 


27 



“Here, old man, if you don't pay that §1.15, TU have you arrested.” 




































28 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


disgust. “He gave ’em to us and I thanked him, 
and handed him three doughnuts and a piece of 
dried apple pie, and now he wants us to give him 
some money.” 

“I’ll be dodgasted if I’ll do it!” shrieked Uncle 
Bob, looking as if he would like to crush the little 
chap in uniform to unrecognizable pulp. “Give him 
back his trash. No decent person would eat sich 
stuff anyway.” 

“But I did eat ’em—Ruth and me,” said Aunt 
Becky. “I wish to the land I could give ’em back 
to him. I put the books in my telescope.” 

“Yer bet cher boots, I’ll git the police after yer if 
you don’t pay the $1.15 you owes me,” shouted the 
boy. 

“Wal, take your money, but I must say this is a 
new way of doin’ business,” vociferated Uncle Bob, 
tossing him the change, and hastening out to get 
Rover. 

“Want your baggage transferred! Bus to the 
hotel! Cabs!” cried a long line of men in deafening 
competition at the exit of the depot. 

“Don’t speak to ’em, Becky, or it’ll cost you a 
quarter, mebbe,” said Uncle Bob, striding along 
with the frightened dog at the head of the proces¬ 
sion. 

“Do you want a cab, madam?” said one of the 


THE HUB 


29 


husky shouters, approaching Aunt Becky and tip* 
ping his hat. 

“I hain’t no use fer a cab, sir. Walkin’ is good 
enough fer us. We don’t believe in all these fan- 
dangled notions you city people have,” she replied 
with withering scorn as she dutifully followed her 
liege lord. 

After a long walk, during which their bundles 
were frequently piled upon the sidewalk while they 
rested, Uncle Bob spied a hotel, and, with a chuckle 
of glee, made for it as fast as possible. 

“Is this on the European plan?” he asked the dap¬ 
per young clerk at the desk. 

“No, sir; American.” 

“Then I’ll stay. I like everything that’s Ameri¬ 
can,” declared the old gentleman, with a sigh of 
relief. 

“I wouldn’t stay here, even if it was one of them 
hotels where you git entertained fur nothing,” said 
Aunt Becky, nervously pulling his sleeve. “This 
tavern faces a grave-yard, and it’s the worst kind 
of a sign to set in a room looking out over a burying- 
ground.” 

“Then you kin set with your back to the winder,” 
said Uncle Bob tartly. 

But his wife remained inexorable, and knowing 
how useless it was to resort to any kind of strategy 


30 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


when her superstitions were involved, he left the 
hostelry, and in a quarter of an hour they found a 
similar hotel, and were about to come to terms, 



“For land sakes , Bob Springer , there's another grave-yard 


when Aunt Becky cried out again in terror: 

“For land sakes, Bob Springer, there’s another 
grayeyard across the street! The Bosting people 
















must be nearly all dead! I shan’t stay here neither 
—come along, Ruth.” 

“Wal, it seems to be a sort of a dead place. I 
don’t think myself that burying-grounds are very 
good signs to advertise hotels with, but mebbe it’s 
the style in Bosting,” said Uncle Bob. “However, 
Becky, I don’t propose to spend all my time and 
vitality dodging grave-yards, and I’m going to stay.” 

“Nearly every hotel in Boston looks out upon a 
cemetery. People coming here from New York 
rather like it,” said the clerk, smiling broadly. 
“Will you register, sir?” 

“No, sir; don’t put my name to no paper,” declared 
Uncle Bob, bringing his fist down upon the desk 
with drastic emphasis. “If that’s your way of doing 
business, we’ll go over in the grave-yard and have 
lunch there. Everybody is supposed to be honest 
over there.” 

“Perhaps, then, you want me to register for you,” 
continued the clerk, smiling brightly at Ruth, who 
modestly cast down her eyes, blushing at Uncle 
Bob’s delusion. 

“Wal, if it’s necessary. Didn’t know this was a 
sort of a primary election business,” said the old 
man. 

“What are your names?” inquired the clerk, tak¬ 
ing a pen and waiting respectfully. 


32 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky Springer of Skow- 
hegan, Maine, and our adopted daughter, Miss Ruth 
Burton, born in Louisianny—all on our way to the 
great World’s Fair, way out yonder in old Missouri.” 

“Thank you,” said the clerk, writing rapidly. 

“Becky is 62 and I am 60, and Ruth is—” 

“He didn’t ask our ages, you blockhead!” 
screamed Aunt Becky. “You’d tell everything you 
knowed and more, too, if a person wouldn’t shut 
you off like a cook-stove damper every few minutes.” 

“Shall we send your baggage up to your room?” 
said the clerk, who would have giggled outright had 
it not been for something in Ruth’s dark eyes that 
demanded his respectful courtesy. 

“Wal, you look honest and I reckon you might as 
well take it up,” said Uncle Bob, after a moment’s 
reflection. “Don’t believe you could wear any of 
our paraphernalia anyway, unless it was my 
socks.” 

“I feel like I ort to lay down and strefch out, but 
we mustn’t lose any time,” said Aunt Becky, yawn¬ 
ing and rubbing her eyes. 

“I ’spect them grave-yards make you drowsy,” 
said Uncle Bob mischievously. “Say, young man, 
can you tell us the place of biggest interest to 
visit?” 


THE HUB 


33 


“Most people want to see Bunker Hill, one of the 
city’s old landmarks,” replied the clerk. 

“Oh yes, I’ve heard tell of that place many a time 
before,” said Uncle Bob, with enthusiasm. “It’s 



located in a sooburb called Charleston and we kin 
go and see the monument and famous old battle¬ 
ground for ourselves.” 

“Just go over to that corner and take the car 

















34 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


coming from the east, 7 ’ directed the clerk, giving 
Ruth a farewell smile. 

“Here comes one of them cars, Becky! Git right 
out on the track and wave your umberell!” com¬ 
manded Uncle Bob, his excitement prevailing as 
usual at the least provocation. 

“ Say, Bob Springer, wouldn’t I cut a figger, stand¬ 
ing out there going through sich exercises?” pro¬ 
tested Aunt Becky scornfully. 

Without making a reply, her husband wrested the 
cotton umbrella from her grasp and waved it in 
the air. 

The car stopped and Uncle Bob scrambled on 
board, followed by Aunt Becky and Ruth. 

“Wait a minute—the hull family ain’t on yet! 
Here, Rover!” he shouted, reaching down for his 
trusty canine. 

“Beg pardon, but dogs are not allowed on this 
car,” said the conductor. 

“Are you fellows so dod-gasted stuck-up nowa¬ 
days that you won’t let a dog ride with the family 
which has taken care of him ever since he was a 
pup so high,” said Uncle Bob, struggling to get one 
foot on the car. “You won’t get no money out of us 
unless you let Rover ride too. Pears to me he’s jest 
as respectable lookin’ as some of your passengers 


THE HUB 


35 


that set there gigglin’, and perhaps a blame sight 
more so.” 

“Now Bob, don’t raise another scene here, for 
mercy sake,” said Aunt Becky, seizing her indignant 
husband by the coat sleeve and ineffectually trying 
to draw him down to a sitting posture. “Rover kin 
run along behind. Don’t you remember how he took 
after Libbie Jones and chased her nearly to Skow- 
hegan, one day when she stole his bone just to tease 
him?” 

“She was sich a shadder, like as not the dog 
thought she was the bone and chased her,” snapped 
Uncle Bob. 

“Wal, so long as you keep up his interest, he’ll 
foiler. Take this piece of bologna and wave it at 
him and encourage him along and he’ll run as fast 
as any race lioss you ever seen.” 

Aunt Becky pulled from her reticule a link of 
bologna, a remnant of their train lunch, and Uncle 
Bob seized it with avidity. For six miles the pros¬ 
pective county drain commissioner gesticulated 
wildly, waving the alluring bait in the air and 
shouting with all his might. 

“Here Rover! Come on—that’s a good feller! 
Don’t give up! Courage, old boy! Come on—catch 
’em, Rover!” 

The poor dog manipulated his short bow-legs with 


36 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



Rover’s hard luck. "Bui he kept in sight of his master and the sausage.” 























































THE HUB 


37 


amazing dexterity. Never did an Athenian of the 
olden days, sprint harder for the coveted crown of 
laurel than did Rover for his beloved master and the 
bologna. He closed in a few moments after the car 
arrived at Bunker Hill, fire flying from his green 
eyes and his tongue lolling out, snorting like a 
chemical engine, while the spectators cheered and 
laughed till their sides ached. 

“You’re a plumb good one, old boy, and here’s 
your reward! If them Britishers had made for 
Bunker Hill with half the zeal you showed, they’d 
have tuk it sure,” said his proud master, presenting 
him the bologna as he stooped to pat him upon his 
shaggy head; but Rover was too exhausted to enjoy 
his reward, and for a while lay upon the ground, 
unable to go further. 

“Wal, here’s the Bunker Hill grounds,” continued 
Uncle Bob, gaping all about him. “It’s surely worth 
all the trouble we had to git here.” 

“I’m sort of disappointed,” admitted Aunt Becky, 
placing her spectacles and gazing above her*at the 
vacant sky. “I don’t see as its a bit purtier than 
our common at home.” 

“You do beat any female I ever seed,” declared 
Uncle Bob, in disgust. “You alius have to wet- 
blanket everything. It ain’t any purtier, but it’s 
historical. Don’t you know what that signifies? If 


38 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


yon went to see the Garden of the Gods, you’d be 
sore if you couldn’t see the deities. If you went to 
Paradise, you’d find fault with Saint Peter because 
the hull celestial city didn’t turn out to sing 
anthems of welcome and throw flowers and squirt 
cologne on you through the city fire hose, and mebbe 
you’d git put out for your mulishness. Oh these 
women ” 

A tall stranger in a natty spring suit, stood 
watching them in amusement, so that Aunt Becky 
did not retort as usual, although she darted a look 
of disapproval at her husband and assumed an 
injured expression. 

“Be you a stranger in these parts?” queried Uncle 
Bob. 

“Not exactly. I live near the city and come quite 
often to see the spot where our forefathers fought 
so bravely,” said the man politely. 

“Good fur you,” said Uncle Bob, giving him a 
sharp slap on the shoulder. “I thought mebbe you 
imagined I was the monument, the way you was 
sizing me up. My ancestors came to this country 
in the ship called the Mayflower, which landed in 
Plymouth in 1620. My grandfather fit on this very 
spot, June 19, 1775. Becky and I and leetle Ruth 
are going to that place they call the Ivory City, and 
thought it wouldn’t be right to go through Bosting 


THE HUB 


39 


without coming here and honoring the spot where 
our forefathers fit and won the great [victory from 
the British.” 

“You seem to be well posted,” ventured the 
stranger, smiling kindly at Ruth, who, looking rev¬ 
erentially at the monument, failed to see her eccen¬ 
tric guardian’s queer maneuvers. 

“Wal, I read other papers beside the Skowhegan 
‘Express/ and I ain’t no fool when it conies to 
arguing, although I hain’t traveled very much,” 
replied the patriotic old nran, his good humor com¬ 
pletely restored. 

When it was time to return to the hotel, Rover 
was still too fatigued to resume his journey, and 
again Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky racked their 
resourceful brains to devise a scheme to get him 
back. 

“Mebbe you could wrap him up in your shawl and 
the conductor would think it was a baby. He’s too 
tired to bark,” suggested Uncle Bob. 

“I’d arouse suspicion right away. It’s unusual to 
see a woman 62 years old with a baby, and it would 
be jist my luck to be arrested for kidnapping. I 
don’t see why you had to tell my age at the hotel 
fur,” replied his wife, with line sarcasm. “If you 
didn’t tell it folks wouldn’t know anything about 
it,” she added. 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


40 


“Here comes a vehicle,” said Ruth, giggling in 
spite of her stoic resolve to be respectful. 

“That's a hansom-cab,” cried Uncle Bob. “You 
have read ‘The Mystery of the Hansom-Cab,’ haven't 
you Becky V’ 

“I heard the neighbors talk about it some years 
ago, but I don’t see anything very handsome about 
that machine.” 

“Say, young man, what will you charge to take 
Rover, Ruth, Becky and me to the hotel near the 
Boston and New York depot?” asked Uncle Bob in 
a loud voice, as the cab drew near. 

“I don’t carry dogs!” yelled the driver, pulling 
rein and smiling disdainfully at the discomfited 
farmer. 

“Oh, you’re one of them nice, high-toned fellers, 
too! I guess you’d better move along,” said Uncle 
Bob, with an emphatic gesture. “Here comes an 
express wagon! Say, Mister, what’ll you charge 
to take we four to the hotel near the Boston and 
New York depot?” 

“Six dollahs, sah,” replied the driver, who was a 
colored man with a fine assortment of ivory teeth 
that displayed themselves to advantage behind the 
broad smile he wore. 

“Do you think I’m one of them bloated bond- 


41 


THE HUB 



- -—-—-—— 

“I'm, not chargin' you nothin' for the wagon and myself; besides I don't 
usually carry dogs , sah." 































42 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


holders on Wall street ?” asked Uncle Bob, almost 
breathless with surprise. 

“No sah, that’s cheap. I am really chargin’ you 
nothin’ for the wagon and myself; only enough to 
cover the expense of the horse.” 

“Wal I am glad to run across one humane person 
in this town that has any consideration fer his 
dumb beast. It’s a bargain. Pile in, Becky. The 
Bostonians so fer as I have seen ’em seem swelled 
up because they are the hub of the universe. Now, 
anyone with sense knows that a hub ain’t worth a 
hang without spokes and a tire. The outside rural 
population may be fur remote but it constitutes 
the necessary tire, and this old hub couldn’t move a 
peg without it.” 

“Now, Uncle, don’t be too hard on Boston for we 
have only spoken to a hotel clerk, a street car con¬ 
ductor, a cab driver and an expressman,” admon¬ 
ished Ruth, as she climbed into the express wagon 
with the ease and grace of a country girl, deter¬ 
mined to take everything as it came, and make the 
best of her experiences. “Besides,” she added, 
“there are a good many handsome young men here.” 

“Then this town must be made up of that class of 
people, and the wise kind that wear spectacles are 
gitting as scarce as edifying conversation at a car¬ 
pet-rag sewing,” snarled Uncle Bob as they jolted 
back to the hotel, the cynosure of all eyes. 


THE HUB 


43 


“I don’t s’pose this here hotel has many of its 
customers sent here by express/’ remarked Aunt 
Becky, as she watched the wagon diminishing in 
the distance. “Let’s hurry in and look after our 
belongings, fur like as not somebody’s been rum¬ 
maging through ’em. I wouldn’t put nothing past 
that smart feller at the counter that took our 
descriptions.” 

They entered the hotel, but another clerk was in 
charge and Aunt Becky’s suspicion was immediately 
aroused. 

“We must be in the wrong tavern!” she gasped. 

“I think not,” replied the clerk, chuckling audibly, 
as he looked over the register. “You are Uncle Bob 
and Aunt Becky Springer and Miss Burton of Skow- 
hegan, Maine.” 

“You’re right, but where did that squinty-eyed 
man go that wrote our names down in that big 
autograph album?” 

“He left an hour ago and I am relieving him,” said 
the clerk. 

“I’ll warrant that feller has been meddling 
with our things, too,” said Aunt Becky, turning 
crimson with indignation. “Young man, you bring 
our property right down to this room immediately 
or I’ll report you to the town marshal.” 

“Certainly,” said the clerk, affably. He pressed 


44 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


an electric button and gave the order to a bell boy, 
who soon returned with the satchels, bundles and 
packages of the Skowhegan delegation. 

“Becky’s jest a leetle bit suspicious,” apologized 
Uncle Bob, “and she’s got good reasons to be for 
she’s alius gettin’ takin’ in by these dodgasted 
sharpers. Outside o’ that, she’s a rattlin’ smart ole 
gal. What time does the train leave fer New 
York?” 

“The fast express leaves in two hours.” 

“Then we’ll have a leetle supper here and put out 
fur the depot,” said Uncle Bob decisively. 

“But Uncle, I know Aunt Becky must be dread¬ 
fully tired and sleepy,” said Ruth, confronting her 
guardian. 

“She kin sleep in the train if she wants to,” replied 
Uncle Bob, chucking her under the chin with his 
middle finger. “Any woman that’s got the ambition 
to fly off in sich a tantrum without any reason, can 
scrape up a leetle extry energy to use in an emer¬ 
gency. What do you charge fur taking care of our 
traps, young man, while we were at Bunker Hill?” 

“Nothing whatever, sir.” 

“Much obleeged.to you. You’re the first man that 
done us a service since we left home, without charg¬ 
ing all the way from a quarter to six dollars. I’m 
sorry Becky had to get up her Skowhegan dander. 


THE HUB 


45 


We’ll all be back in a few weeks and if yon want us 
to stop at this here tavern you must move that ’ere 
graveyard, and tell them ’ere street car conductors 



they may be all fired fast, but they should remember 
that even a dog has some rights that must be 
respected.” 




































46 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


After eating a hearty supper they set out for the 
Old Colony Depot to take the fast express to New 
York, accompanied by one of the bell boys who saw 
them to the train, and soon they were speeding 
towards the great money-center, the Empire City. 

Hardly had they started, when Aunt Becky, who 
had been invoicing her possessions, suddenly arose 
in the seat, with her eyes distended and her bony 
hands, encased in black cotton mitts, spread out in 
the air, as if she were going to fly. 

“Heaven help me, Bob Springer! my bandbox with 
my $2.50 bonnet is gone. It had that old snuff box 
that I have had these twenty years, my tooth brush, 
a pair of stockings, my knit garters, my bustle, my 
nightgown and other unmentionables in it, too.” 

“Maybe you made a mistake in counting up the 
traps,” said Uncle Bob, fumbling among the lug¬ 
gage. “Why land of Goshen, you have got your 
bustle on. I reckon you’re a little rattled, Becky.” 

“No I ain’t, it’s gone,” gasped the terror stricken 
woman. “That good-for-nothing, low lived clerk 
stole it. Stop the train.” 

“Wal, if he did, he must have purty poor taste,” 
said Uncle Bob, spreading his hand over his mouth 
and chuckling to himself. “Mebbe he wanted a 
souvenir to remember you by—eh Becky!” 




S SOON as they entered the car Uncle 
Bob settled himself in one of the cane 
seats for a nap, but Aunt Becky was 
too much provoked to do anything but threaten ven¬ 
geance upon the hotel clerk, charged with stealing 
her millinery and other personal effects. 

“I bet if- I knowed who the mayor was, Fd write 
him a letter and have that dishonest tavern-keeper 
put behind the bars/ 7 she burst forth impetuously. 

“But Auntie, it would only be an added expense 
and a loss of time. If I were you, Fd go and buy 
the articles I needed, to replace the ones which were 
stolen, and make Uncle pay the bill. It would serve 
him right for making fun of you, 77 said Ruth con¬ 
solingly, as she laid her tired head upon Aunt 
Becky 7 s shoulder. 

“I don 7 t care about the things so much as I do the 
low principle the feller showed. I’ll never forget 
this place they call the Hub as long as I live, 77 con¬ 
tinued the old lady spitefully. “If Bosting is what 
you call a cultured place, I don 7 t wonder that 
47 






48 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


author-feller—Howells, and all them air best writ¬ 
ers move to New York.” 

“But we saw very little of Boston, Auntie,” said 
Ruth. “I’ve often heard that the Bostonians speak 
purer English than the people of any other Ameri¬ 
can city.” 

“Then the Lord help the English language, if 
that’s what they call the best,” scornfully replied 
Aunt Becky. “You, yourself, know that it hain’t 
so. I never heard such dialect in my life as they use 
there. Anybody with good common sense would 
know that i-d-e-a don’t spell i-de-ar, and c-a-r-d ain't 
pronounced ‘cod’. I guess I have right smart book¬ 
learning myself, and know a thing or two besides 
milking cows, peeling taters and feeding our old 
hens, chickens and ducks.” 

Ruth was about to make a rejoinder, when a bold¬ 
faced chap, with pimples on his nose, who sat in 
the seat across the aisle, lighted a cigarette and 
gave a tantalizing puff in their direction. 

“So, there’s another peart, impudent youngster 
from Bosting!” said Aunt Becky, with bitter sar¬ 
casm. “Do you take this for a smoke-house, sir?” 

“It’s the smokin’-car, all right, and you’d better 
go back in the hind car before the conductor puts 
you out. Ladies not allowed in here,” was the quick, 
impolite reply. 


AT GOTHAM 


4 $ 

“I believe lie is right, Auntie; there are several 
men smoking. Let’s get out as quickly as possible. 
Uncle Bob can sleep here till we get to New York,” 
implored Ruth, as she began to gather up the 
bundles. 

“La, I never seen such embarrassing predica¬ 
ments in all my born days,” said Aunt Becky, in dis¬ 
gust. “Like as not we’ll have to go through a 
saloon, too, before we’ll get where the decent 
people are.” 

Hardly were they comfortably arranged in the 
passenger car, when the door was dashed open and 
Uncle Bob staggered in, pale to the lips, his eyes 
and mouth wide open in consternation. 

“Why, Bob Springer—what on earth’s the matter! 
Have you got cramps ag’in?” cried Aunt Becky in 
alarm, endeavoring to rush to his assistance; but 
the car gave a sudden lunge and the poor woman 
was thrown back upon the seat, her hat assuming 
an unusual pose over her left ear. 

“Oh Becky! Ruth! I’m so glad you hain’t fell 
overboard!” cried the poor old man, throwing his 
arms around his wife and giving her a series of bear¬ 
like embraces, in spite of her angry protests. 

“You didn’t want us to set there in the smoking- 
room and git all smelt up with that horrid poisonous 
tobacco, did you?” asked Aunt Becky, still hardened 


50 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


towards him, for liis lack of sympathy when she 
lost her two-dollar-and-a-half bonnet. 

“I was sleeping like a lamb, when somebody fell 
over my big Skowhegan feet in the aisle and I 
woke up and—and you was gone!” continued Uncle 
Bob, regardless of the amusement he was creating 
among the gaping spectators. “Some smart dude 
setting there said that he saw you flirting with an 
old codger—probably a corn doctor—and that you 
got off and gave me the slip.” 

“And did you believe that, Bob Springer? Whose 
been a truer wife to you all these forty years than 
me?” replied Aunt Becky, too indignant to speak 
with her usual volubility. 

“Oh Uncle, Auntie, please don’t say any more!” 
begged Ruth, for the first time displaying her vex¬ 
ation. “Everyone is laughing at us, and after all 
it was only a slight mistake. Please Uncle, sit 
down and go to sleep again.” 

The exhausted triumvirate were finally composed 
and they managed to take a long nap before they 
arrived at their destination. Uncle Bob was snor¬ 
ing loudly, when the conductor shouted: 

“New York Central Depot! Pass out this way!” 

There was a general confusion for a few moments 
and the Skowhegan party summarily collected its 
luggage and was ushered into the spacious waiting- 


51 


AT GOTHAM 



The Skowhegan party leaving the train , start to see the Empire City. 










































































































































52 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


room, from which Uncle Bob soon found an exit 
into the noisy city. 

Without stopping to find a hotel, they at once 
went sight-seeing on Broadway, with its ever-chang¬ 
ing throng of hurrying humanity. Aunt Becky was 
bewildered and* ardently wished herself back at 
Skowhegan, but Uncle Bob and Ruth were exhil¬ 
arated by the strange, new atmosphere and fasci¬ 
nated by the unusual surroundings. 

At Battery Park their attention was attracted 
by a dense crowd of people, who pushed and scuffled 
to get aboard a capacious steamer, decorated with 
flowing flags and pennants. 

“Come on, folks, let’s foller the procession,” said 
Uncle Bob, unmindful of the heavy burden he was 
carrying. 

“Where is this ship bound for?” he asked a 
policeman, who was striving to repress the surging, 
good-natured multitude. 

“It goes to Bartholdi Statue—the Goddess of 
Liberty,” was the curt reply. “All aboard.” 

“That sounds patriotic,” said Uncle Bob, approv¬ 
ingly, as he fumbled in the pocket of his trousers 
for change to pay for the tickets. “We’ll go along 
and mebbe have a chance to learn something.” 

He was about to step upon the gang plank, when 


• I 


AT GOTHAM 


58 



We may learn something; let us go too,” said Uncle Bob. 


































































5 4 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


an officious man in an ornamental cap pushed him 
back, saying: 

“No dogs allowed.” 4 

“Wal, I declare,” gasped the farmer in astonish¬ 
ment. “I wonder if they’re going to keep up that 
tune all along the line. Mister, this dog has been 
in our family a great many years and I alius take 
him wherever I go. I’m willing to pay fur it.” 

“Let’s leave him at the place where they check 
articles,” suggested Ruth, whose quick eyes had 
discovered an egress from the dilemma. “Don’t stop 
to argue, Uncle.” 

“How much will it cost to leave Rover?” asked 
the old man of the boy who was in charge of the 
check-room. 

“One dollar.” 

“Why, young feller, do you think Becky and me 
manufacture coin on our hundred and forty acres?” 

“That’s our price for taking care of dogs.” 

“Wal, then, here’s your money. Don’t let him 
chaw your woodwork or git tangled up in his tail.” 

In a few moments the steamer pulled out and the 
granger and his family were soon absorbed in the 
many interesting but unfamiliar things upon land 
and water. When they arrived at the great statue, 
which is the mecca of all tourists who visit the 
metropolis, Uncle Bob was the first to cross the 


AT GOTHAM 


55 


gang plank. For a moment lie stopped to gaze about 
him, but the keeper gruffly shouted: * 

“Go ahead, old man, or get out of the way! They’ll 
stamp you down like a herd of buffaloes, if you 
stop. Move along, old man.” 

As they ascended the narrow stair-way, the 
crowd surged more violently, and Uncle Bob and 



Aunt Becky, hand in hand, the latter clutching Ruth 
with death-like tenacity, were almost lifted from 
their feet. In vain they protested, but they were as 
so many feathers to the crowd below and they were 
not permitted to rest until they had reached the 
summit. 

“I don’t believe Elijah went up in his chariot of 




























56 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


fire as suddent as we did. Pm mighty glad we left 
Rover with the checker,” wheezed Uncle Bob. 

“Oh, Bob Springer, Pm too awful tired to enjoy 
it,” gasped Aunt Becky, wiping her perspiring face. 
“I wish I was back home.” 

“What a gorgeous view of the city and the ocean!” 
cried Ruth in delight. “What a magnificent monu¬ 
ment this is and how grand and stately the Goddess 
must look with that flambeau in her hand lighting 
up the harbor at night! It is indeed a symbol of 
liberty.” 

“I kin imagine now how the Lilliputians felt when 
they got the first squint at Gulliver,” said Uncle 
Bob, craning his neck out of proportion. “Wouldn’t 
it be a terrible thing to have a woman of that size, 
laying for you with a torch to light you off to bed 
some night when a feller comes home late?” 

“I wish some certain men had sich women,” 
retorted Aunt Becky, who never lost an opportunity 
to give her better half a thrust when it was for his 
own good. “There wouldn’t be so much hard cider 
guzzling and other iniquities in Hi Pratt’s barn at 
Skowhegan, I guess.” 

“There you go again, you’re always ready to fly 
off the handle, Becky. I reckon there wouldn’t be 
any men left if you and Widder Slant and a few 
others grew to be that size,” retaliated Uncle Bob. 


AT GOTHAM 


57 


At the sound of the gong the sight-seers descended 
to terra firma to take the steamer for the city* 
Uncle Bob stretched himself gratefully as he looked 
up at the ample blue sky, saying: 

“Wal, after all, the best liberty a feller kin have 
is freedom.” 

Rover was overjoyed when they returned and 
barked and frisked merrily about to prove it. 

Again they joined the cosmopolitan concourse, 
bent upon seeing all they could of the vast city. 
They had not progressed very far, when a young 
man, attired in a light suit of clothes, with a bright 
red tie, which was made all the more conspicuous 
by a diamond stick pin of vulgar size, stepped for¬ 
ward, saying: 

“Are you Mr. Bob Springer?” 

“That’s my name, but you’ve got the best of me, 
I never seen you before, I reckon,” replied the old 
man, looking incredulously at the garish creature, 
whom he mistook for a city dude. 

“I am the young man who called to see you several 
times, but you were not at home.” 

“Wal, you see me now, I reckon. What kin I do 
fur you?” 

“I saw by the morning paper that you and your 
wife arrived today, and knowing that you were 
strangers, I thought I would offer my services, 


58 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


which would enable you to see the sights quicker.” 

“Have them blasted quill-drivers got me and 
Becky in the papers so quick?” cried Uncle Bob in 
surprise, although his face beamed with gratifica¬ 
tion. 



“There ain't a man in Skowhegan that kin beat me at card, tricks 
said Uncle Bob. 


“You know its quite an honor to be recognized 
with the other prominent people,” laughed the 
stranger in a way that completely disarmed the old 
gentleman’s suspicion. 

For a few moments they carried on a brisk con- 













AT GOTHAM 


59 


versation, Uncle Bob ascertaining the principal 
points of interest and thanking the stranger repeat¬ 
edly for his courtesy; Aunt Becky and Ruth, fol¬ 
lowed by Rover, sauntered off towards Broadway, 
not noticing that their protector was gradually 
lagging behind. 

“I’ve been out of the city for some little time and 
just returned,” said the stranger. “By the way, I 
took part in a very clever game last night that 
netted me a good deal of money. I think it is the 
simplest and best trick I ever knew.” 

“What is it? There ain’t a man in Skowhegan 
that kin beat me doing card tricks. We generally 
play over in Hi Pratt’s barn on rainy days and I’d 
be mighty glad to show ’em something new,” said 
Uncle Bob, who was pining to enjoy .an occasional 
little game, but could not escape from his wife’s 
rigid surveillance. 

The young man led him into an out-of-the-way 
place, where he took from his pocket three playing 
cards, and one containing the picture of a pretty 
girl. These he placed upon a bench about six 
inches apart. 

“Now pick out the picture card,” requested the 
stranger. 

“What do you take me fur, anyway? That’s no 
trick at all. Here it is,” said Uncle Bob, bending 


60 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


over with difficulty and producing the correct card. 

“You’re pretty sharp-sighted, old fellow,” said the 
city chap, somewhat nonplussed, as he deftly shuf¬ 
fled the cards again. “Now I’ll bet you ten dollars 
you can’t pull out the picture card again. Of course 
this is just a trick. You’ll get your money back all 
right. You look like a sure-winner.” 

Uncle Bob hesitated for a moment, but his in¬ 
herent love for speculation bubbled up as it did in 
the days of his youth, and without saying a word, 
he flashed a ten dollar bill from his vest pocket and 
covered the stranger’s money. Then he drew a 
card which turned out to be the duce of spades. The 
stranger laughed good-naturedly, but Uncle Bob 
was too disgusted to see the joke. 

“Now let’s each put up twenty dollars and if you 
win, you’ll get back not only the ten dollars you 
lost, but will be thirty dollars ahead of the game,” 
said the sharper laughing sarcastically. 

“Young feller, I don’t know much about New 
York mathematics, but your way of stating the 
problem makes me a sure winner, so here goes.” 

“Now keep your eyes open, old man. Yon see the 
picture card, don’t you. Now all you have to do is 
to pick it up,” said the trickster, at the same time 
giving the cards a sly twist, too quick to be observed 
by Uncle Bob’s untrained eye. 


AT GOTHAM 


61 


“I’ve got her this time all right,” he replied, stoop¬ 
ing so suddenly his waistband nearly gave way. 
His smile of exultation, however, turned to chagrin, 
when he produced, not the pretty girl, but—the 
nine spot of spades. 

The bunko-steerer pocketed the money and notic¬ 
ing a policeman, without even a farewell, disap¬ 
peared through an alley, leaving the farmer to 
stare all about him in stupefied amazement. 

“Wal, I see how it’s done all right, dodgast the 
luck,” he hissed as he followed in the direction Ruth, 
his better half and Rover had taken a few minutes 
before. He soon found them, however, looking into 
a display window on Broadway. 

“Where under the sun have you been!”impatiently 
exclaimed Aunt Becky, with a peculiar look upon 
her face. 

“I just paid out thirty dollars for a leetle bit of 
common sense,” replied Uncle Bob, still dazed. 
“That smooth young feller that told me all the 
places of interest and claimed to know all the 
Vanderbilts and Goelets and Burdens and J. Pier- 
pont Morgan and Russell Sage, stole thirty dollars 
out of my vest pocket.” 

“The Lord have mercy on us!” shrieked his provi¬ 
dent wife* throwing her hands above her head, as 
was her custom when painfully surprised. “You 


62 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


need a guardian appointed, if anybody ever did. The 
idea of a man of your age letting a feller git his 
fingers in his vest pocket in broad daylight!” 

She continued to upbraid him, as they strolled 
along until they came to City Hall Square, where 
the immense postoffice and other mammoth build¬ 
ings struck them dumb with overpowering awe. 

“Gee! but don’t that postoffice make ours look 
like an ant hill in a barley field!” exclaimed Uncle 
Bob, throwing back his head and opening his eyes 
and mouth to their utmost capacity, as he gazed 
at its summit. “Some of them buildings are so 
tarnal near heaven, they put me in mind of the 
Tower of Babel. Look at ’em, Becky.” 

They finally strolled into the Bowery, which next 
to Wall street, is the most discussed of all New 
York thoroughfares. As they were curiously look¬ 
ing at the quaint stores and people from every 
country on the globe, Ruth suddenly discovered that 
Rover was missing and cried out in alarm: 

“Oh Uncle, Rover has disappeared!” 

“Rover! Rover! Where is my dog Rover!” 
shouted Uncle Bob in a frenzy of excitement; but 
no faithful bark responded to the summons. 

A policeman who happened to be passing, stopped 
and said gruffly: 

“What’s the matter, old man?” 


AT GOTHAM 


63 


“I’ve lost my dog Rover, my old companion that’s 
slept under our roof for a great many years. Tell 
me how to find him,” wailed Uncle Bob. 

“I’d advise you to put a notice in one of the papers. 
Give a description and offer a reward of ten dollars 
for his return. You’ll get him back all right, if he’s 
in the city—now move on!” said the policeman, with 
a peremptory wave of his club. 

“Do look at that winder with the blue calico in it, 
advertised at only four cents a yard!” said Aunt 
Becky, a few minutes later, as she stopped in front 
of a cheap store. “I’d like to take Jane Buck 
enough to make her baby a dress.” ' 

She adjusted her glasses to get a good view of 
the gaudy fabric, when quick as a flash, her reticule 
disappeared from her hand and the front of her 
alpaca dress was torn as if a chance bolt of light¬ 
ning had struck it. 

“What was it, Bob!” she gasped, after she had 
uttered a piercing shriek and looked wildly about 
her in all directions. 

“You’ve been attacked by one of those ‘moll-buz¬ 
zers’,” said a clerk, who was standing in the door¬ 
way. “They’re very prevalent in this part of the 
city.” 

“A ‘moll-buzzard!’—what on earth’s that?” she 
cried. 


64 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


verge of a collapse. 


“They are cowardly men and boys, schooled to 
rob women and girls of their pocket-books, and it 
is almost impossible to catch them.” 

“He tuk my bag!” groaned Aunt Becky, on the 
‘It had my purse with a dollar 
and fifty-seven cents, a 
kerchief, my lower false 
teeth and other treas- 
H ures.” 

“Wal, Becky, it ’pears 
like you’re old enough 
o keep from getting 
held up right in broad 
daylight,” said Uncle 
Bob, with trying sar¬ 
casm. “A feller might 
jist as well try to em¬ 
brace that big Goddess 
of Liberty statue as to 
try to find your bag, so 



“ Moll-buzzers” -ever on the watch for the 


unsuspecting. let it go.” 

After considerable inquiry and much unnecessary 
perambulation, they found a plain but respectable 
hotel on Sixth Avenue, where Uncle Bob secured 
accommodations for the night. Early in the even¬ 
ing he wrote the following indefinite announcement, 
which he sent by a boy to a newspaper office: 












AT GOTHAM 


65 


“Lost, strayed, or stolen, my dog Rover, bow-legged, bushy tail 
and hair on nose. Anybody returning same will be paid ten dol¬ 
lars, and no questions asked.” 

After a hearty supper they repaired to the 
rotunda to enjoy an hour of pleasant conversation 
and to read the newspapers. 

“It beats all how the society people are alius 
looking for something outlandish to do,” said Uncle 
Bob, throwing down his paper in disgust. “I’ve 
jest been reading how they’re going to have their 
hats trimmed with cherries and real currants and 
mebbe watermelons, this summer. We used to be 
thankful to have enough to eat by our old fashioned 
fire-places at home, but now they’re not satisfied 
with their elegant dining-rooms, and one man 
started the fashion of giving tea parties on horse¬ 
back in a stable and another big-bug had his com¬ 
pany climb up a greasy pole in swimming suits— 
old women and all—to see who could git the little 
bag of molasses candy at the top. What is the 
world coming to anyway? Who was that young 
feller that captivated Newport, because he had the 
face to wade in a public fountain in his bare feet 
and carry a rag doll down the main street and made 
it popular to wear a parrot on the left shoulder 
when making calls? He did so many cute things, 
he finally captured a beautiful widder with ten 


66 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


million dollars, and is now the bell-sheep of the 
national six hundred.” 

“I believe his name was Lear—King Lear,” said 
Aunt Becky promptly. 

“No, it was Harry 
Lehr,” corrected Ruth. 
“I read all about it and 
I didn’t think it was 
nice for the papers to 
make so much fun of 
him. Maybe his critics 
would give their eye¬ 
teeth to be in his shoes. 
He must be shrewd and 
clever anyway, or he 
couldn’t sway the most 
exclusive set in New 
York as he does.” 

“Mebbe he’ll git tired 
of cutting up capers for 
„ the public, like Samson 

Carried a parrot on the left shoulder 

when making calls. did in the Bible, and 

settle down and be a real good citizen,” said Aunt 

Becky charitably. 

“More likely he’ll pull the house down on himself 
and perish the way Samson did, too, if he keeps on 
with his doodle-shines,” said Uncle Bob. 





AT GOTHAM 


67 


“Wal, at any rate, Samson's friends perished with 
him in the big smash-up, so they couldn’t crow over 
him,” interposed Aunt Becky. “You remember 
Hank Baxter used to be jist such a cut-up as that, 
but after he’d been married ten years to Huldy 
Perkins and had an operation performed for lum¬ 
bago, he sobered down and went into the ministry.” 

“If a feller has the right sort of a Delilah around, 
to keep him trimmed, it ain’t necessary for him to 
have an operation or study for the ministry either.” 
said Uncle Bob. “Wading in public fountains bare¬ 
footed and carrying rag dolls around might be all 
right for people of that ilk, but if any plain Ameri¬ 
can citizen did sich a thing as that, they’d say he 
was crazy and pen him up. Why, if Becky and me 
gave a supper on horseback in our barn, no one in 
Skowhegan would come but Dean Jones, who is 
alius willin’ to go any place where he can get a 
good square meal for nothin’, but I reckon, even he 
would not have much of an appetite to eat in the 
barn.” 

“It’s no wonder they have so much trouble gitting 
help,” said Aunt Becky. “When I looked at that 
big Sloane residence to-day—a regular sky-scraper 
—my heart bled fur that poor hired girl.” 

A half hour later they retired to their rooms and 


68 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


were soon lost in the enjoyment of nature’s great 
restorer—sweet sleep. 

Uncle Bob was aroused the following morning by 
a loud rap at the door. 

u Who’s there?” he responded. 

“The porter.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Did you advertise for a lost 
dog?” 

“Wal I should say I did. 
Have you got him?” 

“There are about twenty 
men and boys downstairs with 
dogs, waiting for you since 
four o’clock this morning.” 

“Good heavens! I only 
wanted one and that was 
He rapped at Unde Bob's Rover,” replied Uncle Bob, 

door at j o clock the next 7 * 9 

morning. performing a very incomplete 

toilet and hastening down¬ 
stairs. When he reached the office he found that 
the number of people with dogs, of all sizes, colors 
and conditions, had increased to thirty, and the air 
was filled with discordant barks and shouts of 
laughter. The proprietor of the hotel walked back 
and forth behind the desk, too enraged to utter a 
protest. Uncle Bob’s amazement was forgotten 




Rover's strange experience—Redeemed by his master. 









































70 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


when he discovered Rover in the arms of a hare¬ 
lipped Italian. 

“Where did you find Rover?” he asked in delight, 
while the dog at the mention of his name, squirmed 
and yelped pathetically to reach his master once 
more. 

“The paper say, Ten dollars paid—no questions 
asked/ I want my money, Signor,” replied the 
Italian. 

“Wal I’d pay most any price to git that dog back, 
so here’s your ten dollars,” said Uncle Bob, pro¬ 
ducing another bill from his wallet. The man 
bowed his thanks and freed Rover, who barked joy¬ 
ously and straightway attempted to demolish his 
benefactor’s coat-tail. 

“Hold on, old gent, we want pay for our dogs, too 
—see!” mumbled a tough specimen, with a slouch 
hat drawn down over his eyes, as he stepped in front 
of Uncle Bob, who was hurrying upstairs with his 
treasure. 

“I don’t owe you anything. I only advertised for 
my dog Rover,” was the astonished reply. 

“Yes, but the ‘ad’ said ‘dog with bushy tail and 
hair on nose’ and we’ve come in accordance wid dat 
description and don’t expect to be bamboozled out 
of our pay, do you understand?” 

An officer, whom the proprietor had summoned to 


AT GOTHAM 


71 


disperse the crowd, after hearing the particulars, 
stepped up and said authoritatively: 

“You’d better give each one of the men a dollar 
for the expense and time they have squandered in 
bringing the dogs here, and after this make your 
advertisement more explicit. Maybe it would be a 
good idea to leave your mongrel out on the farm the 
next time you come to the city.” 

“Wal, this advertising business is purtv expen¬ 
sive, but I want to do the right thing. It beats all 
how these city folks set up all night to do Becky 
and me up,” said Uncle Bob, scratching his head. 

In the course of a half hour the thirty men with 
their dogs and dollars departed, leaving Uncle Bob 
forty dollars poorer than when he left Aunt Becky 
upstairs putting on her switch; but to him the 
safe return of Hover and the additional experience 
was worth even more. 

After eating a hearty breakfast and paying their 
bills, they set out for the Cortland street ferry, en 
route to the great west. Being absorbed in the 
hurly-burly of noise and confusion all around them, 
they wandered into Wall street, the great mart of 
the American continent. Its tall buildings, stand¬ 
ing compactly together, seemed a formidable 
phalanx on either side and filled them with awe. 

“What a drop in a bucket a feller is, when he gits 


72 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


on Wall street, where all the nabobs and specula 
tors of the country gather to control finances,” 
said Uncle Bob. “Them bloated sharks are too 
smooth fur plain, honest people like me and you, 
Becky.” 

“Yes, let’s hurry on, for if they find we have got 
any money with us, we will never leave while 
there is a cent in our pockets,” said Aunt Becky, 
clutching her remaining bundles tightly. 

In the midst of this colloquy, Uncle Bob suddenly 
turned, and, behold! the dog had disappeared—and 
this time for good. In vain the frantic old man 
shouted and inquired of passing pedestrians if they 
had seen a dog with a bushy tail and bow legs. The 
heartless throng only laughed at his perturbation 
and a policeman threatened to arrest him if he did 
not move on. 

“This whole town, what they call the great 
Empire City, is a nest of thieves!” cried the farmer, 
shaking his fist in uncontrollable rage. “I know 
now by actual experience that Wall street is a cess¬ 
pool of iniquity, to prey upon the innocent that 
git inside of its clutches. No wonder they call it 
a big octopus. It’s tarnal mean in them to steal 
my dog Rover that’s been a member of our family 
fur so many years. I’ll be glad when we git to 
Philadelphia where they claim to liaye brotherly 


AT GOTHAM 


73 


love. Truly, Bosting is Sodom and New York is 
Gemorry.” 

“ La, Bob, I told you that Rover had better stay 
to home, but you would have your own way, and I 
reckon you’ve paid dearly fur your stubborness. It’s 
awful unlucky to travel with a dog—most as bad 
as setting thirteen to a table,—or that many eggs 
under a hen,” croaked Aunt Becky, her eyes filling 
with tears. 

“I must have Rover! I can’t go without him!” per¬ 
sisted Uncle Bob. 

“Uncle, we must not delay any longer, it’s nearly 
time for the boat to leave for Jersey City,” urged 

Ruth. 

“Yes, we’d best go. We don’t want no more bad 
luck,” said Aunt Becky. 

The hearts of the old couple were anything but 
peaceful as they resumed their journey to the ferry, 
where they crossed to Jersey City, too perturbed by 
the loss of their pet to notice anything about them. 
When they stepped from the boat, the guards 
guided them to the waiting train for Philadelphia, 
and in a few minutes they were speeding towards 
the goal of their ambition, the World’s Fair. 

“This state is the home of them dodgasted mos¬ 
quitoes. I have heard that they grow so large 
that many of them will make a pound and when 


74 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


desperately hungry, if they cannot get at their 
victims in the daytime, will hunt them up at night 
with lanterns,” said Uncle Bob. 

“And I presume this is where the first Jersey cows 
came from,” laughed Ruth. 

“Yes, and Lily Langtry, the Jersey Lily was raised 
here,” added Aunt Becky. 

“I’ve alius heard tell that Jersey was the’r worst 
place in the Universe fer mud, and every one knows 
it takes mud to make good lilies.” 

“I reckon that if all is true what they say about 
her, she is a pretty good pond lily,” replied Uncle 
Bob. 

It is hardly fair to make so much fun of New Jer¬ 
sey. The state has a good many redeeming quali¬ 
ties,” said Ruth. “I am sure her strawberries, 
peaches and sweet-potatoes are noted all over the 
country, as well as her famous sea-side resorts and 
important manufacturing establishments.” 

“Yes, and some big beer breweries too,” said 
Uncle Bob. 

“I’ll warrant you always know where the beer is 
made, Bob Springer,” said Aunt Becky. I wish it 
was all emptied into the Delaware River, and set 
on fire.” 

“Don’t be discouraged, Becky, it takes barley to 
make beer. I reckon the poor farmer wouldn’t like 
to have his revenue go up in smoke,” replied Uncle 
Bob. 




From the Quaker City to the City 
of Smoke. 

WISH we could have had time to take in 
Washington, and see the capitol and 
spend a day or so at the White House, 
with the great man of the people, the gallant 
Rough Eider,” said Uncle Bob, as they neared 
Philadelphia. 

“It wouldn’t be right to go to the White House 
without first droppin’ Mrs. Roosevelt a postal card,” 
said Aunt Becky. “The poor woman must have her 
hands full with so many children; but the President 
believes everybody should have a big family; Alice, 
though, must be old enough now to be a help to her 
mother.” 

“I’d like to see Buffalo where the Pan-American 
Exposition was held and Niagara Falls, the most 
interesting spot in the United States,” said Ruth. 

“I never thought much of Buffalo since I heard 
so much about their overbearing street-car conduc¬ 
tors,” said Aunt Becky. “When Elvira Dingle was 
there to the Exposition, they didn’t put her off at 

75 




76 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the fair grounds and she had to pay another fare 
to git back.” 

“Like as not she was talkin’ as usual and wouldn’t 
have known it if a bolt of lightnin’ had hit her. I’d 
rather go to Baltimore whar they have such tarnal 
purty women,” said Uncle Bob. 

“Well, I am glad we won’t go there because you 
always make a goose of yourself whenever a purty 
female comes near you,” said Aunt Becky with an 
insulted air. 

They had hardly completed their luncheon when 
they arrived at Philadelphia, the city whose future 
fame and prestige, William Penn, perhaps, never 
dreamed of. Collecting their baggage they hastened 
out into the open air and passed a long line of cab¬ 
men and express drivers, w T ho were lined up for 
business. 

“This place don’t seem so noisy as Boston or 
New York,” said Aunt Becky, as they turned into 
Chestnut street. 

“Wal, I alius heard Philadelphy was a slow-going 
town, especially jist after gitting over the effects 
of Lent; but its plenty brisk enough fur me,” de¬ 
clared Uncle Bob. “We’ll have to git a leetle move 
on us, as we only have a few hours to stay here. 
What do we want to see first?” 

“Independence Hall,” said Ruth. 


QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 77 


“That’s the very place! Hello, stranger, kin you 
tell us how fur it is to Independence Hall?” said 
Uncle Bob, grabbing a passer-by and suddenly 
bringing him to a halt. 



“ You go to thunder. Anybody would know you 
are a hayseed ,’’ said the stranger. 


“I don’t know,” was the crusty reply. 

“Mebbe yon haven’t seen the men that signed that 
wonderful document, the Declaration of Indepen¬ 
dence.” 




















78 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


‘Never” 

“Like as not you don’t know the father of your 
country.” 

“You go to thunder! Anybody would know that 
you are a hayseed,” retorted the angry stranger as 
he turned and suddenly vanished in the crowd. 

“These pesky city fellers hain’t got much bringing 
up. Everything is going at sich a rapid pace, that 
all they know is zip—sizzle!—and all’s over,” com¬ 
plained Uncle Bob. “In Skowliegan, the neighbors 
will give their pedigree from A to Z, and a good 
deal more. Sometimes they’ll talk all day and if 
they don’t git through the same day they’ll come 
back next day and finish. There is Widder Slant— 
she often comes and brings her lunch and sometimes 
stays all day. Here conies another man that looks 
as if he knew a leetle something. Say, mister, 
where is Independence Hall?” 

“Well, really, I can’t just tell you where to find 
it, but it’s in the city all right,” said the man 
vaguely. 

“Wal, wouldn’t that paralyze you!” exclaimed 
Uncle Bob, in surprise. “You’re sure they hain’t 
moved it to Washington, ain’t you? You must be 
one of them fellers that thinks the Fourth of July 
is a day set apart for picnics and drinking red 
lemonade and shooting off fire-crackers and all kinds 


QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 79 


of cussedness. Don’t you know it was the place 
where our forefathers risked their necks to sign 
the Declaration of Independence which announced 
our freedom from Great Britain?” 

“Well, I believe I did hear something about it,” 
stammered the stranger. “It’s a terrible-looking 
old building, though.” 

“The older and more turrible it gits, the more you 
ort to venerate it, young man. The old bell that 
rang out the glad news of freedom is dusty and 
cracked now; but isn’t your old mother’s voice more 
precious to you than if she was a leetle, simpering 
gal? I bet you can’t even sing our national air, The 
Star Spangled Banner,” said Uncle Bob dramati¬ 
cally. 

“I must confess that I can’t,” said the stranger, 
blushing deeply. 

“Not one in nine-hundred and ninety-nine kin, 
and it’s a burning shame, too. There ain’t a person 
even in Skowhegan that kin sing more than four 
lines of it, except Mahala Ann Wattles, and she 
don’t put any spirit into it, so that it sounds more 
like ‘Hark from the Tomb a Doleful Sound.’ It looks 
to me as though young Americans were losing their 
patriotism and it’s a dodgasted pity.” 

The third man they met knew where the old land 
mark was situated, and thus received Uncle Bob’s 


80 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


thanks instead of a scathing lecture. He directed 
them to it and refused to take the fifty cents Uncle 
Bob offered him. The old building did not look as 
pretentious as some of its neighbors, but the old 
farmer’s face was illumined as he entered its port¬ 
als, to where so many great men had convened and 
planned to guide the “Ship of State” through an 
impending crisis. 

“This hall was begun in 1732 and completed in 
1741; the tower was built in 1750,” said a guard, 
whom they met at the entrance. “Of course you 
know the Declaration of Independence was signed 
July 4, 1776. You are at liberty to go through the 
building and see the old historical relics for your¬ 
self.” 

“Here is the statue of George Washington, the 
Father of our Country,” said Ruth, with enthusiasm, 
as they halted before the colossal figure and admir¬ 
ingly examined it from the noble brow to the base 
of the massive pedestal. 

“I think they might have a statue of Mrs. George 
Washington, too,” said Aunt Becky. “Anybody 
knows that a man never amounts to much who 
hasn’t a good wife to cook him good meals and keep 
his socks darned, and she deserves a pedestal as 
big as her husband’s any day.” 

The gallery containing the portraits of the brave 


QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 81 


men who signed the Declaration of Independence 
was likewise curiously inspected. 

“Here’s Thomas Jefferson and John Adams and 
Roger Sherman and Robert A. Livingston and 
Benjamin Franklin—all of whom signed the Decla¬ 
ration!” cried Ruth in delight. “They were surely 
heroes and should have fresh flowers placed on their 
portraits every day.” 

“That’s Robert Morris, the wealthy banker, who 
furnished funds when the government needed the 
money, and this is Alexander Hamilton,” said a 
bystander, who was obviously pleased with Ruth’s 
charming enthusiasm. “And that is William 
Williams, a Welshman, also one of the signers.” 

“And there is Charles Carroll, of Carrolton, 
another signer, who was an Irishman. I’ve heard 
tell of him. Hurrah for the Irish!” cried Uncle Bob. 
“He was the last one to sign the Declaration, but 
that was because he w T as polite—not afraid.” 

“And there’s the Marquis de Lafayette, who rep¬ 
resented the French nation, and a great help he 
was, too,” said the stranger. 

“I like the looks of Benjamin,” said Uncle Bob 
with emphasis. “His father was a common soap 
boiler and Ben was an ideal, manly feller—a whole¬ 
hearted American from the working people, and not 


) 


82 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

a stuck-up dude that couldn’t do anything but look 
dainty and play tag with the women folks.” 

“Yes, but here is another signer, equally as brave, 
who was a son of luxury—John Hancock,” said the 
bystander. “He was the leader in the Philadelphia 
and Boston smart set and gave musical entertain¬ 
ments, parties, balls and dinners where the choicest 
w T ines were served. His clothes were perfumed and 
embroidered in gold, and he rode in a magnificent 
carriage. During the siege of Boston, when General 
Washington consulted Congress as to the advis¬ 
ability of burning the city to the ground, it was 
Hancock, this petted darling, who said: ‘All my 
property is in Boston, but if my country demands 
that it be burned, let them blaze away!’ ” 

“Bully for John Hancock!” cried Uncle Bob. “He 
was a good American, too, and—wal I suppose a 
feller can’t help his raising.” 

After they had completed their profitable tour of 
the building, they went out to see the great public 
structures that adorned the heart of the city, and for 
some time gazed in wonderment at the city hall, 
which covers more space than any other municipal 
building in the United States, and has a tower five 
hundred and ten feet high. 

Returning to the depot they took the lightning 
Express for Pittsburg, feeling that they had been 


QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 83 


amply repaid for the time spent fn the city of 
Brotherly Love. As the train shot from the station 
like a cannon ball, Aunt Becky’s old horror of rail¬ 
road wrecks returned, but Uncle Bob was extremely 
happy and bubbling over with mirth. 

“Gee whizz!” he shouted. “If all the trains in 
the country move at this gait to St. Louis in old 
Missouri, it won’t take long to haul all the people 
out there.” 

“But where would we go if the train went off the 
track,” excitedly asked Aunt Becky. 

“Wal, I s’pose Heaven would be our next stop,” 
said Uncle Bob, laughing fearlessly. 

They arrived in Pittsburg early the following 
morning before the city had time to don her daily 
mantle of sombre black smoke. Uncle Bob saw a 
man standing in front of a livery stable, close to the 
depot and asked him where he might find the 
points of greatest interest. At that moment a 
telephone-bell rang and the liveryman ran in to 
answer it, followed by the Skowhegan tourists. 

“Gosh! that’s one of them machines that talks at 
both ends,” said Uncle Bob, who had never seen a 
telephone before. “I understand they’re eroing to 
have a rural telephone system in our parts and of 
course they will come to our old homestead, and I’d 


84 


UNCLE BOB AND A UNT BECKY 



she had a board in it. 










































QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 85 


like to learn liow to use ’em. Wliat’s in the other 
side of that infernal she-bang anyway?” 

“You can come and talk into it for yourself, if you 
want to,” smilingly replied the m&n with a twinkle 
in his eye. 

He explained to Uncle Bob which was the receiver 
and which the transmitter and told him to call up 
Jones & Smith’s Feed Store and order two bales 
of hay. He did as directed and immediately a shrill 
voice responded: “What number?” 

“Gosh, Becky, • this is a wonderful enterprise! 
Hey! who are you?” chuckled the old man. 

“I am the girl at the switch-board,” a voice 
replied. 

“Switch! My wife, Becky wears a switch; but if 
she’s got any sticks or boards in it, I never seen ’em. 
She don’t operate it either; she just wears it; but 
if you can give her any pinters on the latest styles, 
she’ll be powerful obliged to you.” 

“You don’t understand,” replied the girl. “All 
I do is to call the person you want to talk with.” 

“Oh, I see. You are the gal that gives them bulls 
and bears on Wall street pointers that enables them 
to force the price of wheat and corn up and down— 
anything to freeze the poor farmer out. If Rockefel¬ 
ler and Morgan have money to burn, I wish you’d 


86 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


send one of ’em down to buy my old homestead 
farm near Skowhegan!” 

“Oh, I see—you are a jay!” shouted the telephone 
girl. 

“Here young lady, don’t you git fresh! Me and 
Becky and Ruth have traveled from tother side of 
the country and I reckon we know a thing or two. 
Our dog Rover has seen more of the world than 
you have. It*s better to be asleep at the switch 
than too gay,” retorted Uncle Bob, throwing dowm 
the receiver highly disgusted. 

The liveryman, who had enjoyed himself hugely 
at the farmer’s expense, diverted his wrath by tell¬ 
ing him that the principal things of interest to be 
seen were the Carnegie Public Library and great 
steel works and directed them how to go there. 

After a long walk they found themselves at one 
of the immense mills owned by Andrew Carnegie, 
proprietor of the largest iron and steel-making 
plants and the greatest philanthropist the world 
has ever known. 

“Gee! but ain’t this a whopper!” exclaimed Uncle 
Bob, as they entered one of the stupendous found- 
dries where thousands of men were hard at work, 
apparently deaf to the distracting noise of modern 
mill machinery. 

“Jist think of the thousands of poor people who 


QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 87 


have toiled themselves to death to make Carnegie’s 
millions!” shouted Uncle Bob. 

“Yes, Uncle Bob, think of the thousands who are 
glad to have the work to do and how he has helped 
to make Pittsburg and all the surrounding territory 
a bee-hive of industry,” replied Kuth. “Most 
millionaires leave their wealth for their immediate 
family to quarrel over and squander.” 

“I don’t believe in one man having so much 
money,” said Uncle Bob. 

“No man can control so much wealth without 
doing some good to his fellow man. Most of these 
wealthy men start in a small way and by judicious 
management increase their business each year. It 
cannot help grow and they are nearly all entitled 
to what they make out of it,” declared Ruth. 

“Did you know that the United States put out 
18,000,000 tons of iron last year; 9,202,703 tons of 
pig iron and 14,277,071 tons of steel?” asked the 
foreman. “Pennsylvania did most of this work, 
Pittsburg being the leading city and Carnegie the 
prime mover.” 

“It beats all what a country this is, anyhow, and 
what a man Carnegie is to make money,” said Uncle 
Bob, almost overwhelmed. 

From there they walked to Schenley Park to 
see the Carnegie Library, the philanthropist’s 


88 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


|1,100,000 gift to the city of Pittsburg. All three 
uttered cries of delighted amazement, when they 
caught the first glimpse of the imposing structure 
of Cleveland gray sandstone, with its dome-like roof 
of red tiles, its two campanile towers 175 feet high, 
its triple arches, its balconies, and a frieze contain¬ 
ing the names of the world’s greatest men. Over 
the library entrance was the motto: “Free to All 
People,” and Uncle Bob’s rosy face beamed joyously, 
as he said: 

“Wal, at last we’ve struck something that’s free. 
Let’s go in and examine it.” 

They opened a massive mahogany door and en¬ 
tered a wide corridor with staircases of pink marble. 
The building throughout was luxuriously furnished 
and included a great music hall equipped with a 
pipe organ, an art gallery, and a museum, in addi¬ 
tion to a library too prodigious to be imagined by 
one so unsophisticated as Uncle Bob. 

“What public benefactor could be inspired by a 
nobler conception than this great institution, where 
rich and poor, old and young, black and white, the 
respected and the downtrodden, may shut out the 
cares of their busy routine of daily toil, and feast 
from this wide-spreading tree of knowledge,” said 
Kutli, trembling with emotion. 

“I never seen anything like it in all my life!” 


QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 89 


declared Uncle Bob again and again. “Surely Car¬ 
negie is a wonderful naan, and lias done more for 
the American public than any nabob I ever heard 
tell of. If he ever comes to Skowhegan, Fd be glad 
to shake hands with him. If he wants a leetle bit 
of honor out of life before he dies, let him have it, 
for he deserves it. Poor Mark Hanna wasn’t appre¬ 
ciated until he died, and now they want to name 
the Panama Canal after him. The American people 



‘ ‘ Everyone has coal specks on their faces in Pittsburg. I wonder 
if Hobson enjoyed them,” said Uncle Bob. 


seem to oe getting fickler every day. When Dewey 
came home victorious, the people wallered around 
in the dust before him and hollered and waved red, 
white and blue buntings at him. People named 
their babies after him and those that didn’t have 
babies, christened their horses and cattle and dogs 
in his honor. They wined and feasted him from 
coast to coast, and then turned around and knocked 
him because he married and deeded his property 






























90 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


to his wife. It’s jist sich mutton-heads as that who 
don’t appreciate the men who have done the most 
for their country.” 

As they continued their journey through Pitts¬ 
burg, and watched the rolling water of the Monon- 
gahela river in the distance, 
Uncle Bob remarked: 

“Everybody’s got coal 
specks on their noses. Did 
you ever see sich a smoky 
place and so many dirty 
faces? I wonder if Hobson 
treated the Pittsburg girls 
as affectionately as he did 
them in the cleaner towns, 
where big daubs of soot are 
not failin' in the air every 
minute.” 

As their time was rapidly 

UT heb°y has an honest face Bob. drawing to a close, Uncle 
Better pay him the §2.00 , ° 

said Aunt Becky. Bob became alarmed and 



asked a street urchin what he would charge to con¬ 
duct them to the depot. 

"It would be worth two dollars,” said the boy, 
laughing mischievously; “you’re awful fur out of 
the way.” 















QUAKER CITY TO THE CITY OF SMOKE 91 


“Do you take me for a trust magnate?” asked the 
old man sharply. 

“Well, strangers git lost here every day and often 
land in the hands of swindlers,” said the boy, 
apparently indifferent. 

“Bob, the boy has an honest face and I think you’d 
better take him,” said Aunt Becky. 



The boy grinned mockingly as he ran down the street . 


CJncle Bob finally paid the amount asked for and 
started for the station; Uncle Bob holding the arm 
of the boy on one side and Aunt Becky on the other, 
with Ruth following closely behind. They reached 
the station after a walk of a block and a half. After 














92 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


telling them that they were at the place they 
wanted, the boy stuck out his tongue at them, and 
grinned mockingly as he ran down the street. 

“Becky, this whole country is after money and 
I see now that by staying on our farm all these 
years, we’ve lost millions of dollars,” thundered 
Uncle Bob, realizing that he had again been a target 
for dishonest humanity. 

The train was an hour late, so they ate a lunch 
in the depot and were quite jubilant when they 
pulled out for Cleveland, the Ohio metropolis. 





















\ 




Forest City and the City of the Straits. 

HEN they arrived at Cleveland, Uncle 
Bob was again surprised at the mas¬ 
sive public buildings and American 
air of thrift, and enterprise. After. 
they had emerged from the crowded 
depot and walked along one of the 
busy streets to a vantage ground, where they could 
see Lake Erie, scintillating like a silver mantle at 
the foot of the city, he stopped short and exclaimed: 

“Wal, I ? ll be dodgasted if I ever expected to see 
a town like this in the. West. Just think of it, 
Becky, while you and me have been slumbering on 
our leetle farm away down East all these years, 
great cities have sprung up, and the Lord only 
knows how big they’ll grow, fur they’ve got unlim¬ 
ited room. I wonder what them British people 
think when they come to this country from leetle 
restricted England, and travel hundreds and hun¬ 
dreds of miles, passing though prosperous cities 
that dot the country like musheroons after a rain¬ 
storm.” 


93 




94 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“It must make ’em feel lonesome/’ said Aunt 
Becky, whose patriotism was not so easily aroused. 
“I s’pose it will take a good many centuries to make 
a London here in Americky, though.” 

“Mebbe, but no matter where an American goes 
in this big, broad United States—whether he’s in 
Skowhegan or Bosting, or Atlanty or Oshkosh, or 
Kankakee, he’s sure to feel happy when he realizes 
that the same old stars and stripes protects him 
no matter what part of the country he may be in. 

“I s’pose this town was named after Ex-President 
Grover Cleveland, and that is the pond he used to 
fish in,” said Aunt Becky, pointing towards the lake 
with her umbrella. 

“Wal, we mustn’t stand here idly ruminating 
like Napoleon Bonaparte did, for time is precious, 
and we have to take the ship fur Detroit this after¬ 
noon,” said Uncle Bob, turning into a side street, 
where they discovered a restaurant sign, which 
whetted their appetites and temporarily routed 
their thirst for sight-seeing. 

A number of men and boys were seated upon high 
stools in front of a lunch counter, devouring griddle- 
cakes, doughnuts and other morning indigestibles. 
Uncle Bob seated himself in the long line of a mot¬ 
ley crowd, who paid no attention to correct table 
manners. Aunt Becky, with some difficulty, 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 95 





























96 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


mounted the stool beside him, Ruth standing by 
her side. 

“There is a room reserved for ladies,” said the 
proprietor, smiling at the unusual spectacle of an 
old lady sitting at the lunch counter. 

“I haven’t eat or slept away from my husband for 
nigh on to forty year, and what’s good enough for 
him will satisfy me,” said Aunt Becky firmly. “Give 
us some ham and eggs and a cup of strong coffee.” 

“And some apple sass, too,” added Uncle Bob. 

“Bob, you might just as well learn to say ‘apple 
sauce’ right here in Cleveland, for it’s wonderful 
poor manners to say ‘apple sass,’ and I’d be bored 
to death if you’d say it at some big doings in St. 
Louis,” corrected Aunt Becky, dipping her knife 
into a bowl of horse-radish and swallowing a good 
mouthful. 

“Wal, you needn’t cry and git hysterical about 
it,” said her husband Testily, as the poor woman 
coughed and wiped her eyes, shouting for a “tin-cup 
of water.” 

“La, I thought that was mashed turnips, but it’s 
horse-radish or some other hot stuff, and I got 
some of it in my throat,” she sputtered apologet¬ 
ically; but Uncle Bob, shocked and disgusted, 
ignored her sufferings and turned to the proprietor. 

“Mebbe you’ll tell us the principal points of in- 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 97 


terest in this here town,” he said. “We only have a 
few hours to spend here.” 

“Well, I’d advise you to go to that corner and take 
a car coming in this direction and you’ll be able to 



Aunt Becky makes a mistake , and takes horse-radish for turnips . 


see the famous Euclid Avenue and the home of the 
Rockefellers. You can ride for miles and miles, and 
then return the same way and get off close to the 


































98 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


dock, where you can get the boat for Detroit,” said 
the man politely. 

“So this is the town where John D. Rockefeller 
lives—the man who is worth $300,000,000!” ex¬ 
claimed Uncle Bob, in a mocking tone. “Some 
people say he made it out of oil, but I say he made 
every cent of it out of the people. The country is 
three hundred million times poorer on account of 
his existence. That’s plain, authentic, good com¬ 
mon hoss sense.” 

“But, Uncle Bob, there are always two sides to 
every story,” said Ruth. “Only a few days ago I 
heard you tell Auntie that you remembered when 
oil was sold for one dollar a gallon, and you were 
thankful to get it at that price, because at that 
time its use was an innovation in lighting houses— 
one that could not be dispensed with. I read in this 
morning’s paper that oil is now ten cents a gallon. 
That would make it ninety cents cheaper than it 
formerly was, and if Mr. Rockefeller has made this 
great amount of wealth from the sale of oil, the 
public has saved even a greater sum. Every time 
we buy a gallon of oil, we save ninety cents.” 

“It beats all what a head for figgers that gal 
has,” declared Uncle Bob admiringly. “A feller 
can’t very well argue on a subject when somebody’s 
alius ready to fire figgers and statistics at him. 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 99 


Wal, mebbe he hain’t no happier with his millions 
than I be with my old homestead and hundred and 
forty acres, and a trusting wife that’s a good cook, 
and a smart, purty, leetle darter.” 

“You have a nice town here,” observed Aunt 
Becky to the proprietor, while Uncle Bob made a 
voracious onslaught upon a piece of apple pie. 

“Yes, it’s the largest 
city in Ohio, although 
Cincinnati is going to 
tack on some of her big 
suburbs and try to beat 
us at the next census. 
Cleveland is growing al¬ 
most as fast as Chi¬ 
cago.” 

“Chicago! Why I 
thought that tow T n was 
burnt up in 1871!” cried 
Uncle Bob. 

“So it was; but when a city burns dow T n in the 
West a still handsomer one grows up over its hot 
ashes apparently in a day,” said the man with a look 
of pride. 

“I’m mighty glad we stopped at Cleveland,” said 
Uncle Bob, gathering his bundles. “It’s a city with 
a marvelous future.” 



Uncle Bob eats Cleveland apple 
pie with a relish. 


tore. 




100 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“According to statistics, it bad only twelve fam¬ 
ilies during the Revolutionary War, and four old 
bachelors,” said the proprietor. “With such a 
start and one-fourth of the men bachelors, I think 
the growth of the city has been wonderful.” 

“There were two brothers named Hicock,” con¬ 
tinued the proprietor, “and one of them changed his 
name to Henderson so there wouldn’t be two fam¬ 
ilies of the same name in Cleveland. They’d surely 
run out of names if they tried that now. The town 
increased four souls in 1796, fifteen in 1797, seven 
in 1800, and so on until in 1866 when it increased 
to 67,500. At the present time it has over 400,000 
inhabitants.” 

At that moment Aunt Becky’s eagle eye ran 
across a sign at the side of the room, which con¬ 
tained the words: “To the Bar.” 

“I’d like to look into a court of equity,” she inter¬ 
rupted. “Do you admit women to the bar here, 
Mister?” 

“Yes, pass on in/’ answered the proprietor, some¬ 
what puzzled. 

She opened the door and looked into the adjoining 
apartment, but closed it with a crash, screaming in 
terror: “It’s a saloon! Here we’ve been eating in 
the front part of a salqon and I never knowed it! 
What would the Skowhegan Temperance Society 


FOREST CITY' AND CITY OF STRAITS 101 


say if they knowed their recording secretary had 
been in a saloon. Oh what shall I do?” 

“Jist keep it under your hat, Becky, and they’ll 
never know it,” said Uncle Bob, laughing until his 
face displayed symptoms of apoplexy, as he fol¬ 
lowed her into the street. 

They took a car as directed, saw Euclid Avenue 
at its best, and rode to the end of the line. They 
then returned and were soon at the D. & C. wharf, 
where Uncle Bob purchased transportation on the 
City of Cleveland, for Detroit. 

In an hour the great steamer appeared, and Uncle 
Bob and his charges moved laboriously along with 
the crowd across the gang-plank to the spacious 
lowep deck, with its highly-polished brass and wood¬ 
work, as neat and spotless as a New England 
kitchen. 

“I w T as alius afeerd of the water; but it’s clean. 
That’s something many of the cities we have visited 
would do well to pattern after,” said Aunt Becky 
venomously. “I have heard how they inviggle 
people into them tur’ble saloons in big cities, and 
now I kin see how easily a innocent woman kin be 
led astray.” 

“You needn’t ever be afraid, Becky. Nobody 
would ever molest you, unless you had your reticule 
along,” said Uncle Bob, laughing until his life part- 


102 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


ner declared that he was not only a fool, but crazy 
in the bargain and far from being a gentleman. 

Finally the gang-plank was put in place, the 
whistle sounded, and the City of Cleveland began 
her trip to beautiful Detroit, the City of the Straits. 

So exhilarating was the breeze that stole over 
the deck from the rolling waters of the blue lake, 
and so deliciously novel the motion of the steamer 
and the throbbing of the engine, Aunt Becky was 
soon her natural self, and arm in arm the three 
tourists from Maine explored the beautiful boat 
from bow to stern. 

“It’s just like a fairy palace!” exclaimed Ruth, 
as she sank back in one of the luxurious chairs in 
the salon and gazed at the gilded ceiling, studded 
with artistic electroliers. “It is a city in itself and 
there are no accommodations it does not possess.” 

“It’s jist as grand as the barge which that brazen 
Cleopatry sailed down the river in to meet Mark 
Antony. I alius felt so sorry foi\poor Susan B. 
Antony, after Mark acted so scandalous,” said Aunt 
Becky from another comfortable chair. 

“They’ve even got a barber shop and saloon,” said 
Uncle Bob unconsciously. 

“A saloon!” shrieked Aunt Becky, suddenly sit¬ 
ting erect and staring as if a ghost had confronted 
her. “If I had knowed they run a saloon on this 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 103 


ship I’d never have come. They must be fearful 
drinkers in this wild West country. If it wasn’t 
that we was in sich a hurry, I’d make 'em turn right 
around and take me back.” 

“Wal, I guess it won’t hurt you any. You got 
over your saloon experience in Cleveland all right,” 
laughed Uncle Bob. “It’s way down on the first 
floor under the water and you’re as safe as when 
you used to go and set a hull afternoon at a stretch 
with Elvira Dingle next door to a saloon. Besides 
they don’t call it a saloon here—they call it a 
buf-fet. I thought mebbe it might be a kind of a 
museum or a place where they played hand-ball or 
wrastled, and so I peeped in and, sure enough, it 
was a saloon.” 

“I’ll warrant fur you, Bob Springer! If there was 
an old cork that had the smell of brandy on it, hid 
away in the cellar, under a bin of pertaters, you’d 
be sure to find it and haul it out to git a sniff at it. 
Jist let me 'catch you going down stairs to that 
tuf-fet—or whatever you call it, and you’ll be sorry. 
Giving an iniquity a French name don’t make it any 
more virtuous in the eyes of upright, Christian 
people.” 

“Here’s a piano, and while nobody is about, we can 
have a little music. Come on, Uncle, and sing us a 
song,” said Ruth, who always made it a point to 


104 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



Ruth plays while Uncle Boh amuses the passengers singing “ TyrantyT 























































FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 105 

prevent the numerous arguments between the old 
people from becoming too heated. 

With light, graceful touch her shapely fingers 
skimmed the keys once or tw r ice and then launched 
forth upon a tune so old that it might be considered 
one of the folk-lore ballads of certain portions of 
Maine. 

Uncle Bob’s eyes sparkled as he walked to the 
piano and, clearing his throat, sang with much 
feeling: 

“Where have you been, Tyranty, my son? 

Where have you been, my sweet little one?” 

“I have been to Grandmother’s, Mother, make my bed soon, 

I am sick to the heart and tired to lie doon.” 

The pathos of the song appealed to the passen¬ 
gers, many of whom crowded around Uncle Bob, 
urging him to continue. It did not take much urg¬ 
ing, however, and pleased with the attention shown 
him, he continued: 

“What’d you have for your supper, Tyranty, my son? 

What’d you have for your supper, my sweet little one?” 
“Striped eels fried in butter, Mother, make my bed soon, 

I am sick to the heart and tired to lie doon.” 

“Where’ll you have your bed made, Tyranty, my son? 

W T here’ll you have your bed made, my sweet little one?” 

“In the corner of the churchyard, Mother, make my bed soon, 

I am sick to the heart and tired to lie doon.” 

“That sounds like home—sweet home,” said Aunt 
Becky, with tears in her eyes. “Even if we do live 
at Skowhegan, we have sympathetic hearts, and I 


106 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


hope we’ll never have to leave the dear old home¬ 
stead.” 

Ruth softly closed the piano and they went out 
on the deck, where the purser, who had become in¬ 
terested in the whole-hearted old people, but more 
so in their beautiful ward, showed them many 
things of interest. 

“Fm so glad you’ve got a hurricane deck, Mister,” 
said Aunt Becky. “Don’t furgit to let us know if a 
storm comes up, so we can run up there and be 
safe. In Skowhegan we alius go down cellar when 
it storms. I’m glad you hain’t got the hurricane 
deck down stairs close to that pernicious saloon, 
for I’d be mortal afeard that the heavens would 
blast us.” 

Their supper in the cafe was also a great treat 
to them and they were all tranquil and happy when 
they returned to the upper deck, where Uncle Bob 
went to the writing-room and wrote a postal card 
to Hi Pratt, heading it, “Lake Erie, U. S. A.” 

When they Tvere shown their state-room, Aunt 
Becky’s surprise again overleaped restraint. 

“For the land sake, do you call this a state-room? 
I don’t see nothing stately about it,” she burst forth. 
“There ain’t a thing in it but two shelves fur beds, 
a wash basin and three pegs. This bunk looks as 
heathenish as Mis’ Pratt’s spare bed and I can’t fur 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 107 


the life of me see how a person kin keep from 
rolling out. Why, if Bob fell off that top shelf, 
he’d be liable to break his collar bone.” 

“When I crawl in you kin pile all our traps on 
t’other side and pen me in,” suggested Uncle Bob, 
scratching his bald spot as if he, too, were puzzled. 

“We can’t stay in this pigeon-hole all night,” vig¬ 
orously declared Aunt Becky. 

“Maybe you could sleep down in the salon on 
those easy chairs,” said the boy who had conducted 
them to the state-room. 

“None of your impudence, young man, or I’ll have 
you reported,” threatened Aunt Becky, too angry to 
speak coherently. “I’d rather sleep out in the gut¬ 
ter than in a saloon. Do I look like a saloon bum?” 

“I s’pose the boy thought if you could eat in a 
saloon, it wouldn’t hurt you to sleep in one either,” 
chuckled Uncle Bob. 

“Auntie, the boy didn’t say the ‘saloon,’ but the 
‘salon’—the nice big room where the piano is,” ex¬ 
plained Ruth. 

“ La, we can’t stay here anyway,” continued the 
old lady, her rage somewhat mollified. “How on 
earth could three people ever git ready fur bed with¬ 
out gitting all tangled up? You know, Bob, it takes 
a hull ten-acre field fur you to git your trousers off, 


108 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


and I don’t propose to have my eye kicked out while 
you’re doing it.” 

“Wal, rather than have so much fuss about it, I’ll 
take the room next door,” said Uncle Bob. “Like 
as not Becky’ll be restless anyway and roll and 
holler all night.” 

“The lower berth in the next room is occupied, 
but I’ll see if you can have the upper one,” said the 
boy accommodatingly. 

“Wal, I’d rather risk my neck there than to have 
Becky on that trundle-bed shelf underneath me, 
reading the riot act to me all night ’cause she lays 
hard,” said Uncle Bob peevishly, and in a few mo¬ 
ments he was deposited in the upper berth in the 
adjoining room where he soon fell'asleep. 

In the middle of the night, the whistle blew a 
thrilling blast and some gigantic force began 
a bombardment at Aunt Becky’s door. Almost 
helpless with fright, she opened it and beheld a 
spectacle that forced from her a series of blood¬ 
curdling shrieks. It was Uncle Bob, in a scant 
robe de nuit, wearing his hat and holding his lug¬ 
gage, with a life-preserver encircling his well filled, 
corpulent form. 

“Becky! Becky! Git yer things and don’t stop to 
dress. The biler’s busted and the ship’s on fire or 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 109 


else stranded. Hurry up! Where is the fire es¬ 
cape !” he yelled at the top of his voice. 

Two Dayton, Ohio, girls across the way, peered 
out of their room in alarm, but when they saw 
frightened Uncle Bob they screamed and slammed 



Grabbing the other fellow's pants, Uncle Bob shouted, u Becky, 

Ruth, don't stop to dress / The biler’s busted ! ” 

the door, preferring to die in the seclusion of their 
stuffy apartment, than to reach a place of safety 
in his company. Other excited passengers peeped 
at the frantic old couple, but a panic was averted 



110 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


by the opportune appearance of the captain, who 
bawled out: 

“What iff the world is the matter ?” 

“That’s just what we want to know,” said Uncle 
Bob. “We heard that dodgasted distressful whistle 
and was jist gitting ready to pile out of the ship.” 

“Every time a vessel meets another, it blows a 
signal—didn’t you know that? What do you mean 
by stirring up such an uproar—eh? There isn’t a 
particle of dang'er!” roared the captain, his habit¬ 
ually stern face relaxing into a smile for the first 
time in many days. 

“You’ll be the death of me yet, Bob Springer,” 
gasped Aunt Becky. “Like as not you had one of 
them nightmares ag’in. Do take that boa-con¬ 
strictor from around your stomach. It looks fur 
all the world like one of Widder Slant’s doughnuts*” 

“I never put in sich a gormed night in all my life,” 
wailed the old man. “That person on the lower 
shelf laid so still, I got it into my head it was a 
woman, and I couldn’t go to sleep. Jist as I was 
fixing to take a leetle peep to satisfy my curiosity, 
that dodgasted wiiistle blew off and I fell sprawl¬ 
ing on the floor and struck my head on that marble 
sink. The person on the lower shelf was a man, 
and although I hollered and made" a heap of noise, 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 111 


thinking I was saving his life, he never even rolled 
over or woke up.” 

“It serves you right fur being so curious,” retorted 
Aunt Becky wrathfully. “You’re alius running on 
me fur being so narvous, and yet you’re alius gitting 
into hot water with your rambunctiousness. Every¬ 
body on this ship saw me without my switch on 
and I’m bored to death. I’m going to dress and set 
up on the shelf the rest of the night. Ruth is curled 
up there under the covers, laughing to kill herself. 
I never seen sich recklessness in all my life!” 

“Say, old man, if you don’t bring back my clothes 
and gold watch and pocket-book, I’ll have you put 
in chains!” shouted Uncle Bob’s room-mate, a giant, 
with hard, cruel features. “I’ve been in the de¬ 
tective business for thirty odd years, but I never 
saw a man with as much gall as you’ve got.” 

“Forgive me, Mister, I thought they was mine,” 
stammered Uncle Bob, shaking worse than ever as 
he delivered back the goods, and collected his own 
belongings in dire haste. 

“I guess I’ll go back to Becky’s room and git on 
the top shelf. I’d lots rather hear her carry on 
than risk my life with one of them fellers that hunt 
down human souls,” he said as he walked away. 

In a few moments more he was sound asleep in 
his wife’s state-room, in spite of the fact that she 


112 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

abused him at intervals of fifteen minutes all night 
long for making them objects of ridicule and short¬ 
ening her life ten years by the scare. 

Shortly after sunrise the boat turned into the 
Detroit River and the three New Englanders re¬ 
paired to the lower deck, where they viewed the en¬ 
chanting scenery on either side, too much delighted 
to dwell upon the embarrassing circumstances of 
the night before. The water was filled with craft of 
every description, and from the pavilions in the 
distance bright-colored pennons fluttered in the 
breeze. Nature smiled propitiously when they 
landed at the beautiful City of the Straits and 
threaded their wmy through a mass of vehicles to 
Jefferson Ayenue, where a cabman shouted: 

“Here’s a comfortable hack to any part of the 
city! Get right in.” 

“Where would you advise us to go so we kin rest 
up a leetle before doing the town?” inquired Uncle 
Bob. 

“Windsor is a good place to rest. I’ll take you 
to the ferry for fifty cents apiece,” replied the man. 

“Wal, I guess we’ll try it,” replied Uncle Bob, 
storing away his goods in the cab. 

A short ride brought them to the foot of Wood¬ 
ward Avenue, where crowds of people were passing 


FOBEST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 113 


in and out of what seemed to them a low, frame 
shed. 

“The summer kitchen must be in the front part of 
the house/’ said Uncle Bob, as he proceeded towards 
the open doorway. 

But again their dismay knew no bounds when two 
men of sour visage, attired in uniforms, rushed upon 
them and seizing their bundles, carried them into 
an office, where they began to tear them open. 
Uncle Bob’s valise, which was in a dilapidated con¬ 
dition, although it had been fastened with carpet- 
rags, gave a tremendous yawn and all his paper 
collars and other wearing apparel rolled out upon 
the floor. 

Aunt Becky screamed as usual and Uncle Bob, 
having recovered his senses, assumed the aggressive 
and seized the offender by the throat, but fell back¬ 
wards over a table covered with parceJs, losing his 
hat in the confusion. 

“How dare you hold a man up in broad daylight!” 
he yelled, crimson to the roots of his hair, as he 
awkwardly scuffled to his feet. “I’ll have the law 
on you as sure as you’re a sneaking reprobate!” 

A younger man simultaneously attempted to rip 
open Aunt Becky’s remaining band-box, but she 
brought down her cotton umbrella upon his head 
with drastic violence. 


114 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“What in the dickens is the matter with you 
people?” rasped Uncle Bob’s antagonist, halting to 
re-adjust his neckwear. “Aren’t you going over to 
Windsor?” 

“I was going to the Windsor, but if they have 
hired hands stationed outside to rob their custom¬ 
ers before they git in, I don’t want to patronize it. 
I don’t see how they do very much business if they 
go through people’s traps that way. Now if you 
want any of them dirty clothes of mine, you’re wel¬ 
come to ’em, but don’t git fresh with Becky’s 
things.” 

“You know you have to pay duty on everything 
that crosses the Detroit Biver, for Windsor is a 
Canadian town,” said the young fellow whom Aunt 
Becky had recklessly attempted to flay. 

“Gee whizz! I thought Windsor was a hotel!” 
replied Uncle Bob, again surprised. “Of course we 
don’t want to go over to Canady. We’re American 
citizens and our feet shall never tread furreign soil. 
If they ever annex Canady, we’ll probably go over 
on a leetle visit, providing the officers don’t strip 
our clothes off before we git a chance to buy tickets.” 

“Windsor looks like a pretty place from here— 
very romantic and distinguished,” said Ruth. “I 
should like to see the King’s subjects and wish we 
could go over there.” 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 115 


“You’ll see more of the King’s subjects on this 
side than you will over there,” said an interested 
bystander. “They’ll all be living on this side in a 
few years more. The Canadians look similar to the 
Yankees. They generally carry their noses higher, 
walk a little bit straighter and are more inclined to 
toe in, however. Whenever you hear a man say 
‘a-boat’ for ‘about,’ put it down in your note-book 
he’s from Canada, and when one says, ‘I see him 
dim a tree yesterday,’ ten chances to one he’s from 
Michigan.” 

“I s’pose every state has strange expressions, 
but they sound powerful queer to people that’s 
alius lived in Maine,” said Uncle Bob. “Come on, 
Ruth, we ain’t going to pay dooty jist to go over to 
see Windsor Castle. Becky, you’re alius talking 
about doing your dooty and I’ll be hanged if you 
ever use that word ag’in I’ll fight, as sure as the 
Sabbath comes on Sunday.” 

They strolled up Woodward Avenue to the City 
Hall, the heart of the municipality, where they 
stopped and looked about them for a few minutes. 

“The streets of this town put me in mind of a 
crazy quilt,” .said Uncle Bob. “I don’t believe I 
could go more than a hundred yards without losing 
my bearings.” 

“The city is laid out according to an old French 


116 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


grant,” exclaimed a man who was waiting for a 
car. 

“The American people seem to take a delight in 
imitating the French,” said Uncle Bob in disgust. 
“I don’t see why they wanted to make them streets 
run every which way like streaks of lightning jist 
’cause the French do it. They’re enough to make a 
Skowhegan man, that’s used to following in one 
straight and narrow way, dizzy.” 

“Cadillac and his French comrades founded De¬ 
troit, you know,” said the stranger. “The English 
seized the town from the French and afterwards the 
Poles took possession of it.” 

“I heard that Detroit had a very interesting his¬ 
tory,” said Ruth. “It has an individuality all its 
own, like Philadelphia, and I’m favorably impressed 
with its beauty.” 

“Just go over to the City Hall and say that to 
Mayor Maybury and he’ll pay all your expenses 
while you’re in town,” said the man, with a look of 
pride, which indicated that he too was a Detroiter. 
“When the Municipal Art League gets to work, 
there won’t be a signboard in the city or a bunch 
of fennel as big as a Canadian penny, and any man 
will be arrested that strikes a match on a brick 
wall. They’re going to work hand in hand with the 
Social Purity Movement and a fellow will have to 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 117 


go over to Walkerville to get a beer or say ‘Pooh.’ ” 

“Fm glad there is one city that is elevating the 
tastes and morals of its people,” said Aunt Becky, 
very much pleased. 

“I’ve heard Detroit was so clean that a person 
could almost eat lunch on the street/’ said Ruth. 

“A person would have had to possess a strong 
stomach to do that last winter, when the streets 
were torn up for months and months,” laughed the 
stranger. “The town isn’t so clean as it was during 
Pingree’s administration—for one thing the people 
have found out that it’s cheaper to burn soft coal.” 

“That big building across the way looks like it 
had been steeped in soft coal smoke.fur a good many 
centuries,” said Uncle Bob. 

“That’s the City Hall,” said the Detroiter, with 
commendable modesty. “Whenever they have a 
convention here they stick out an electric welcome 
sign to jolly the strangers a little. You see the text 
to-day is: ‘Welcome Cut Rate Ticket Brokers.’ ” 

“I see,” said Uncle Bob, squinting with all his 
, might to get a good view. 

“They’re going to have the city hall enlarged so 
there will be more room to make ‘welcome’ dis¬ 
plays,” added the man sarcastically. 

“Then I guess I’d better tell Mahala Ann Wattles 
not to hold their re-union here until the building is 


118 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


completed,” said Uncle Bob, with a broad smile. 
“She is president of the Skowhegan Amalgamated 
Co-Operative Federation of the Secular and Schol¬ 
astic Societies for the Scientific Study of the Trans¬ 
mission of Tuberculosis by Library Circulation.” 

“You’d better call and see the Mayor,” urged the 
Detroiter, laughing heartily. “He’s very cordial 
to strangers and makes more speeches than any 
other, mayor in the United States. He is also a 
bachelor, and you will find him a pleasant, intelli¬ 
gent and social gentleman.” 

“Wal, I’m a politician myself and I’d jist as soon 
go as not,” said Uncle Bob, crossing the street and 
entering the building, Avliere he soon found the 
Mayor’s office. His private secretary was out, so 
Uncle Bob, followed by Aunt Becky and Ruth, en¬ 
tered the inner sanctum, where they discovered a 
man in a Prince Albert coat poring over a copy of 
“Paradise Regained.” He was short and corpulent, 
with an irregular nose, a round, good-natured, rosy 
face, and shrewd, sparkling eyes, sheltered by mas¬ 
sive eyebrows that denoted admirable executive 
ability. 

“Be you the Mayor of Detroit?” asked Uncle Bob, 
forgetting to remove his hat. 

“I am,” was the brief but polite reply. 

“I am Uncle Bob Springer, of Skowhegan, Maine, 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 119 


and this is my wife, Aunt Becky Springer, and Ruth 
Burton, my adopted darter. We’re on our way to 
the St. Louis Fair in old Missouri, and we thought 



“ Be you the mayor of Detroit ? ’ ’ 


we’d jist drop in and tell you that Detroit is the 
finest town we’ve ever seen next to Portland, 
Maine.” 

He gave the Mayor’s plump little hand a pump- 


















120 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


handle shake that made their faces glow with the 
unwarranted exertion. 

“That is very kind of you,” replied the Mayor, 
smiling blandly. “Will you have chairs?” 



“I never saw so many dod-gasted 'pretty gals A 


“No, I reckon we’d better keep our shanks mow 
ing if we want to do Detroit properly,” replied Uncle 
Bob. “If we set down we’ll git to talking and never 
know when to cut it out.” 



FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 121 


“It takes several days to see all the beauties of 
Detroit,” said the Mayor pleasantly. 

“Wal, we’ve seen the City Hall and the Mayor 
and them’s the principal ones,” said Uncle Bob, with 
a polite bow. “I can’t understand why you live in 
single blessedness, with so many tarnal purty gals 
everywhere. I thought to myself—but I didn’t tell 
Becky—that I never seen so many dodgasted likely- 
looking gals in my life as I’ve seen on my way from 
the ship to this here town hall.” 

“Detroit is famed for handsome women, as well 
as for its beautiful streets and avenues,” said the 
Mayor proudly. 

“Then you either must be turrible hard to please 
or else hain’t got no heart at all,” said Uncle Bob 
playfully. “But you’ve got a good, honest, pleasing- 
face, and if you’ve got any subjects that don’t like 
you, it’s mebbe ’cause they’re jealous of you. You 
can’t fool this down East Yankee on human nature. 
Wal, if you’ll kindly tell us a few places to go, we’ll 
set out.” 

“You might visit the Federal building and Grand 
Circus Park, and take a car to Belle Isle, the great¬ 
est natural pleasure ground in the world,” said the 
Mayor. “Anyone will tell you where to find the 
most interesting places, for our citizens are very 
accommodating to strangers. 


122 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“We thought they were in New York, too,” re¬ 
plied Aunt Becky, grimly. “But we were mightily 
disappointed—” 

“Wal, I’m much obleeged to you, and I’d be glad 
to have you come to Skowhegan on a wedding tour 
and make my old homestead your headquarters. 
The people are very sociable there, jist your style 
of folks—goodbye,” said Uncle Bob, again wringing 
the hand of the first man of Detroit and shuffling 
out of the comfortable apartments. 

“I should think he’d have offered you his rig, 
after all that spread of yours, Bob,” said Aunt 
Becky reprovingly. 

“He’s a mighty fine feller and not a bit stuck-up,” 
declared Uncle Bob earnestly. “He’d be just the 
kind of a husband Libbie Jones would enjoy. My, 
wouldn’t she strut around like a turkey in buck¬ 
wheat clover, if she got to be the Mayoress of 
Detroit!” 

They soon found the magnificent Federal Build¬ 
ing and tramped along through its wdde halls and 
corridors, delighted at everything they saw. On 
the judicial floor they met a colored man, who 
seemed to be in authority, and he kindly showed 
them the United States Circuit Court Room, said to 
be the finest in America. 

“This room is only kept for display,” said another 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 123 

Detroiter, who was expatiating upon the merits of 
the building to some visiting friends. “It’s a mar¬ 
velous work of art, but its acoustic properties are 
so bum a fellow can fire off a cannon at the rear of 
the room and the judge couldn’t hear it.” 

“I don’t see nothing commendable about a place 
that ain’t useful,” declared Uncle Bob. “They ort 
to turn the room into an amateur music hall.” 

“This is the United States Marshal’s office, and 
that man with the gray hair is the Marshal,” said 
the colored man, as they moved down the gallery. 

“He looks a heap better than old Bill Schwartz, 
our marshal at Skowhegan,” declared Aunt Becky, 
covertly admiring the distinguished-looking official. 
“He must be a purty husky man or he’d wear him¬ 
self out making arrests in a big town like this.” 

“And this is the United States District Attorney’s 
office. The man without any hair is the main guy, 
and the one with specs on is his assistant; the little 
black-eyed fellow is the head clerk and knows every¬ 
thing from all the technicalities of an admiralty 
case down to the necessary ingredients for a chop- 
suey.” 

They must be smart fellows or they couldn’t hold 
their jobs,” said Uncle Bob admiringly. “Now I 
guess we’ve seen everything but the garret, and 
we’d better go. Thank you [very much, Mister.” 


124 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


They left the imposing structure and, as directed, 
turned north, where they soon came to a large 
building, which Uncle Bob learned was the famous 
Hotel Cadillac. 

“That must be a very old boarding-house, if Cad¬ 
illac used to run it,” said Uncle Bob. 

“Oh, Uncle, see the park with the beautiful foun¬ 
tains and flower-beds, as far as the eye can reach,” 
interrupted Ruth, her face lighting up with keen 
pleasure. 

A short walk brought them to the Grand Circus 
Park, where Aunt Becky again showed her disap¬ 
pointment. 

“I don’t see no animals and any fool knows there 
can’t be a grand circus without monkeys and ele¬ 
phants and alligators and sich,” she snapped. 

“Wal, some of them individuals setting along 
there on them benches don’t look as if their monkey 
ancestors were very fur remote,” said Uncle Bob, 
with a grin. “It’s a kind of a big two-ring circus 
after all. I s’pose the people out of jobs keep them 
seats warm in the day time, and the people that 
want to make dates take possession of ’em in the 
evening.” 

“Well, anywrny, it’s more respectable than loafing 
around on store-boxes and whittling like they do in 
Skowhegan,” said Aunt Becky. “It’s a purty place, 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 125 


and if I lived here I’d set bj that founting all day 
long and patch and darn.” 


“A tramp who was smoking a cob-pipe, close to 
a bed of yellow tulips, told them how to get to 
Belle Isle, and before long they were seated upon 



Weary Willy directed them to Belle Isle. 


the smoking seat of a trailer on their way to the 
most charming spot in the Wolverine state. Jeffer¬ 
son Avenue, with its pretty homes, its expansive 
lawns, and venerable trees, drew forth admiring 
exclamations from Ruth, and by the time they 








126 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


reached the Belle Isle Approach her vocabulary was 
exhausted. 

They engaged a carriage and were driven across 
the great bridge to Belle Isle, where for two hours 
they rode through , park and glade, through picnic 
grounds and tangled forest, by artificial lakes, and 
across babbling brooks, with the bracing air from 



‘ ‘ There aint any more pisen ivy here than there is Floridy moss. Look out 
there, you, and stop your spoonin'; can't you read 
that pisen ivy sign ? " 


the shining waters beyond, filling them with mani¬ 
fold ecstacies. 

“It’s a wonderful place and there’s room for all 
the people in Detroit and Skowhegan, too, to spend 
a day here and wrastle around just as if they was 
in the country, and not be crowded, either,” said 
Uncle Bob. “You don’t see any ‘keep off the grass’ 
signs and everything seems to be fur the accom- 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STEAITS 127 


modation of the people. A feller don’t feel afeard 
to cough out loud if he wants to. The only prohibit¬ 
ory signs I seen were the ones that say, ‘Beware of 
the Poison Ivy.’ My eyes are sharp enough to see 
that there ain’t any poison ivy here any more than 
there is Floridy moss, and my intellect is sharp 
enough to comprehend that the foxy authorities use 
them signs fur a blind. They should read: ‘This is 
a nice place to spoon, but don’t do it, fur you might 
git caught.’ ” 

At the suggestion of one of the park tenders, they 
took the ferry and returned to the city, getting off 
at the foot of Third Street, satisfied that they had 
seen Detroit’s chief attractions. 

When they reached the Michigan Central Depot, 
they found the general confusion that follows the 
arrival and departure of trains. People were bid¬ 
ding one another goodbye, trucks heaped high with 
trunks and valises were being wheeled to the bag¬ 
gage-car, and the transfer men were shouting as 
if to drown the clamorous omnibus drivers and cab¬ 
men in waiting outside. 

“This way to the Chicago train! Everybody show 
tickets!” shouted the tall, wiry gate man. 

Uncle Bob, who imagined the curt command 
was prompted by a desire to awe the travelers with 
the speaker’s superiority, playfully attempted to 


128 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


push through the iron enclosure into the station 
yard; but the gate-keeper pulled him back, saying: 

“You can’t go through till you show your ticket!” 

“Mister, I bought my ticket at Skowliegan, which 
takes me and Becky and Ruth to the great show 
way out yonder in old Missouri,” drawled Uncle Bob. 

“That don’t make a bit of difference; you must 
show your ticket.” 

“You fellers are gifting so tarnal officious you’ll 
git your heads battered out of shape some day. 
You’re uncommonly bossy and look as if you hain’t 
had a thing to eat fur a week. If you was down to 
my old homestead, I’d give you all the pork and 
beans and pertaters you could eat.” 

“Will you please move along, sir, and let the 
people pass? It’s only two minutes till the train 
pulls out,” said the man, having descended from his 
lofty pedestal of authority. 

“Yes, and all the sweet-milk and butter-milk and 
fresh butter you want from our old Jersey cow.” 

“If you don’t move along, I will be compelled to 
call a policeman and have you arrested,” said the 
man in despair. 

“Yes, and all the fresh eggs you can eat—real 
hen’s eggs,” continued Uncle Bob. 

By that time the impatient crowd had pushed 


FOREST CITY AND CITY OF STRAITS 129 

them through the gate, and a colored porter pointed 
out the coach they were to take. 

“Everybody and everything seems to be impatient 
to git to that Wonder City; even the iron hoss to 
this here train is puffing and snorting as though she 
didn’t want to wait fur us. Here we be, conductor 
—let her go!” cried the farmer from the old Pine 
Tree State. 

“Bob, it was a shame the way you treated that 
poor man at the gate,” said Aunt Becky, fixing her¬ 
self comfortably in one of the seats. 

“It served him right,” replied Uncle Bob. “The 
idee of him being so inquisitive as to make us show 
our tickets. I hope we don’t look like we’d steal a 
ride on this here train, do we?” 

“You do act so foolish sometimes,” continued his 
wife, with a distressed look. “Pray don’t w r ork your¬ 
self up to a fever heat or people will think you’ve 
never been away from home till now.” 

“Wal, I reckon they won’t have to look at you but 
once to tell that, Becky,” laughed the old farmer, 
with playful sarcasm, as happy as a schoolboy who 
is about to leave for a long summer vacation. 

A sharp whistle from the engine, and the train 
was soon speeding towards the enterprising metrop¬ 
olis of the Great West. 



HE monotony of the long trip, however, 
became perceptible in an hour or two, 
and it was Ruth who attempted a diversion. 

“Say, Uncle, are you good at conundrums?” 

. “Wal, yes,—that’s my long suit,” was the ready 


reply. 

“Why didn’t they play cards in the ark?” 

“Oh, that’s easy! ’Cause Adam set on the deck.” 
“Bob Springer, ain’t you ashamed. Adam was 
never in the ark. It was Noah that set on the deck. 
I should think you’d be ashamed to make fun of 
sacred things,” was Aunt Becky’s caustic reproof. 

“Becky can’t ever see the point of a joke,” said 
Uncle Bob, shaking his fat sides with boisterous 
laughter. He knew that his wife’s views of recti¬ 
tude were uncommonly rigid, and if mildly attacked 
would lead to a warm argument, so he continued: 
“Say, Becky, who was the first man to have a 

seasonable joke played on him?” 

130 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


131 


“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” 

“It was Lot, when his wife was turned into a 
pillar of salt.” 

“Say, Uncle, why is it silly for a young man to 
be ashamed to rent a dress suit?” propounded Ruth. 

“Give it up.” 

“Didn’t Job, one of the wealthiest and most pow¬ 
erful men of his time, rent his clothes?” 

“That ain’t bad,” replied Uncle Bob. “Say, 
Becky, what would you have to do in order to be¬ 
come a beast of burden suitable for the Sahara 
Desert?” 

Aunt Becky gave him a vindictive glance and 
glared out of the window. 

“You’d have to git a leetle hump on you,” laughed 
Uncle Bob, wiping his eyes with a red bandana 
kerchief. 

Well, Bob Springer, I never heard sicli nonsense 
in all my life,” declared the long-suffering woman, 
unable to control herself longer. “The idee of com¬ 
paring your companion to a camel!” 

“She ain’t got as much sense of humor as a slaw- 
cutter,” laughed Uncle Bob. “Some people are 
color blind to humor and they’re alius the ones that 
git old the quickest, and their mouths draw down 
and git green in the corners.” 

“Let’s stop our fooling, Uncle, for it vexes 


132 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Auntie,” suggested Ruth, her dark eyes dancing 
with mirth. 

“Jist one minute,” insisted her guardian. “Say, 
gals, in what month do women talk the least?” 



“ The idee of comparing your companion to a camel. I haint 
got no hump, Bob Springer.*' 


“I s’pose in January, when the men are laying 
around the house all the time, ’cause there ain’t 
much to do; a woman don’t git much chance to git a 
word in edgeways then,” snapped Aunt Becky. 












































































THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


133 


“Wrong, Becky. They talk less in February, 
’cause it’s tlie shortest month.” 

“I don’t believe in them conundrums at all. None 
of ’em are so and it’s specially wicked to make 
sliglity allusions to the Bible,” flared Aunt Becky. 
“Don’t you remember in the Scriptures, how two 
she-bears came out of the bushes and eat up forty- 
two children fur saying irreverent things to 
Elisha?” 

“Yes, but they eat the kids up fur calling Elisha 
a ‘baldhead,’ ” replied Uncle Bob glibly. “According 
to that, it must be a dreadful sin to make fun of a 
baldheaded man and you’d better be careful, 
Becky.” 

“We must be half way to Chicago,” said Ruth, 
changing the subject. 

“I dread Chicago,” replied Aunt Becky, shudder¬ 
ing as if her spine were being exposed to a needle 
spray. “Deacon Jones told me that New York City 
was an Epwortk League in comparison to that 
wicked town. Bob, you must hold one hand on your 
hip pocket to guard your purse and the other on 
your Waterbury watch. Thieves hang around the 
depot like blue jays in a cherry tree and a person 
is apt to git murdered in their bed and never know 
anything about it.” 

“Wal, don’t borry trouble, Becky. Never worry 


134 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


about the measles till your face breaks out,” said 
Uncle Bob, a trifle uneasily. 

“When Chicago was burnt down, thirty-three 
years ago, I remember Deacon Weaver said that it 
was a judgment sent on the wicked city and that the 
Lord had wiped it off the face of the earth like he 
did Sodom. You know Sodom never even sprouted 
a blade of grass after the big fire there,” croaked 
Aunt Becky. 

“Chicago has doubled her population a number 
of times since the fire, thus beating the world’s 
record as a growing city, which shows conclusively 
that she wasn’t destroyed for her wickedness,” said 
Ruth. 

“I wish we could see a leetle of old Injianny,” 
broke in Uncle Bob abruptly. 

“Now, I expect we’ll see all we want to of it at 
the World’s Fair,” said Aunt Becky, slightly elevat¬ 
ing her nose. 

“Indiana is a grand old state and has a romantic 
history. I should like to pass through it, too,” said 
Ruth. 

“Ruth alius had a liking fur that state ever since 
she read ‘The Gentleman from Injianny,’ ” said 
Aunt Becky. “Of course, we don’t know anything 
about the state, only what we’ve read, and like as 
not there may be many good Hoosiers too.” 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


135 


“Injianny is the biggest hot-bed of politics in the 
Union/’ argued Uncle Bob. “If it wasn’t fur pol¬ 
itics and quinine and the discovery of natural gas, 
that commonwealth would have been nothing but 
a malarial swamp by this time. They have their 
court-houses enclosed in public squares, and hitch- 
ing-racks strung all around, so that a feller can’t 
git into the building until he goes through a sort 
of a barnyard. It’s a fickle old state and alius 
jiggles along like it was stringhalt. It didn’t know 
w T hether to secede or not until the Civil War broke 
out, and it had to do one or t’other. Although it 
give one of its noble sons, Ben Harrison, a turrible 
boost and sent him to the White House, it turned 
right around and gave its support to Grover, Cleve¬ 
land at the next election, and left Ben with his head 
in the mud and his feet bubbling up. If it’s sich a 
romantic state, its surprising that everybody wants 
to move out of it, and that when a man does git out 
he fights if you call him a Hoosier.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” said a commercial traveler, 
who sat with his back towards Uncle Bob. “I hap¬ 
pen to come from that unjustly maligned state and 
I’m proud of it. It looks like a cramped-up place 
on the map, but it has nearly 200,000 more people 
than the great state of Michigan, Upper Peninsula 
and all, and twice as many daily papers. 


136. UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Ok, I didn’t mean to run down the Hoosiers,” 
apologized Uncle Bob. “I was jist trying to start 
an argument. The state certainly has a number of 
bright sons and daughters, and is making wonderful 
advancement.” 

“The Indiana people are not rough, although the 
sobriquet ‘Hoosier’ suggests barbarian bullyism,” 
resumed the man, ignoring Uncle Bob’s apology. 
“They always sit back and laugh in a superior man¬ 
ner when outsiders twit them about their peculiar 
twang and manners, for they well know that it was 
their early writers who first held them up to ridi¬ 
cule. Now a score or more of younger Hoosier 
writers are attempting to lift the veil of obloquy 
that rests upon their people and in so doing have 
made Indiana one of the acknowledged seats of 
literature. No one but a prejudiced or ignorant 
person makes fun of the Hoosiers any more and it’s 
quite the fad for aspiring literary geniuses to claim 
that they were born in old Indiana, the fourth state 
in the Union in educational standing and the fifth 
in wealth. Many of its families in Vincennes and 
other historic towns were old and respected when 
some of the new cities of surrounding states were 
barren patches. Indianapolis is the largest city in 
America not situated upon navigable water, and it 
is a model of beauty and refinement. Laugh at the 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


137 


Hoosier if you will, but whatever locality you visit, 
where there is progress and prosperity, you will find 
that lloosier brawn and brains helped to build it. 
Indiana boasts of an old aristocracy. It is the home 
of Lew Wallace, James Whitcomb Riley and several 
other prominent writers.” 

“Ain’t it funny that sich big guns as them want 
to live in a cabbage patch?” said Uncle Bob. “It 
beats all what taste American people have any¬ 
way. Wal, I can’t argue with you, young man,” con¬ 
tinued Uncle Bob helplessly. “You’re too well 
posted on jeography. What’s the name of this town 
we’re pulling into now?” 

“It’s Kalamazoo, the greatest celery belt in the 
world, wdiicli supplies the markets of every civilized 
nation on the globe. Of course all Kalamazoo cel¬ 
ery doesn’t come from Kalamazoo; sometimes it is 
raised in Kansas and other remote states.” 

“Do tell,” said Uncle Bob, rather mystified. “It 
don’t look much like a big field to me, but I expect 
they have other industries as well.” 

“Oh yes, it is quite a manufacturing city.” 

When they reached the first suburb of Chicago— 
the Garden City, Uncle Bob prepared to get off, say¬ 
ing that he would prefer to walk down town, as his 
legs were quite stiff from sitting so long in the car. 


138 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Your old farm propellers will be so stiff when 
you reach your destination you won’t be able to 
walk for a week,” said the commercial traveler. 
“Why, man alive, it’s miles and miles to the heart 
of the city!” 

“You don’t say!” exclaimed the old man in amaze¬ 
ment. “This city must have built up wonderfully 
since the great fire. I remember how people all 
over the world, even little Japan, sent money and 
provisions to help the sufferers.” 

“Yes, our mite society gave a doings at the school- 
house, and it turned out to be a grand success,” 
said Aunt Becky, with pride. “Hi Pratt made a 
speech on ‘Irrigation in Colorado;’ Phoebe Summer- 
set read an essay on ‘Birds;’ Widder Slant, who was 
then single, played several tunes on the organ; and 
the school children spoke dialogues and pieces. I 
was in one of the red tableaux and represented a 
Spartan mother giving her son a shield and sword 
and sending him forth to battle, telling him to re¬ 
turn either with the shield or on it. I wore a white 
sheet and a crown of paper roses and peacock feath¬ 
ers, and we couldn’t git a shield, so we used a wash- 
biler lid. Don’t you remember, Bob, how lettle Mose 
Packer, the one who was to represent my warrior 
son, got skeered at the noise the fuse made and 
run off the platform bawling? I never was so 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


139 


plagued in my life. “Well, we contributed nearly 
eight dollars and sent a bar’l of provisions besides. 
I remember I made a pound cake and put in a paper 
of prunes and three hats I trimmed myself.” 

“That was very kind in the Skowhegan people,” 
said their new acquaintance, exchanging an amused 
glance with Ruth. “The stricken city needed all the 
help she could get, as 100,000 people were rendered 
homeless. Nearly 17,000 buildings and $290,000,000 
worth of property was destroyed. Fifty-six insur¬ 
ance companies were ruined and no one ever knew 
how many lives were lost. Still, the great fire was 
what gave Chicago its tremendous boom and adver¬ 
tising. People who could not afford to build 
and who still held titles to their property, sold their 
land at .good prices; but in many cases squatters 
poured in and claimed land where the legitimate 
owners had no documents to prove that they were 
the owners. In a year’s time the city was rebuilt. 
Yes, the people all over the country were good to 
the Chicago sufferers, just as they were to the 
Johnstown and Galveston survivors.” 

“And all that misery was caused by old Mrs. 
O’Leary, who went out to milk the cow that kicked 
over a lamp. I don’t believe there ever was a big 
calamity that some female wasn’t at the bottom of 
it,” said Uncle Bob, looking slyly at Aunt Becky. 


140 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Didn’t the man jist git through telling you, Bob, 
that the Chicago fire was providential and give the 
town a tremendous boost?” quickly rejoined Aunt 
Becky. “Nothing great has ever been accomplished 
that some member of the weaker sect wasn’t en¬ 
titled to part of the honor, whether she got it or not. 
Say, Mister, did the poor cow perish in the flames?” 

“I don’t believe I ever heard, Madam. You see 
there were so many incidents of greater moment to 
record, historians neglected to give a complete biog¬ 
raphy of the cow,” replied the stranger. 

“Didn’t the Indians kill nearly all the Chicago 
people at one time?” asked Ruth. 

“Yes, the early citizens had dreadful trouble with 
the red men,” was the response. “In 1673 the 
French visited the spot where Fort Dearborn was 
afterwards built. This was the germ that developed 
into the big Windy City. From 1700 to 1770 the 
Indians made the place an abhorrent spot for the 
whites, and few people were willing to risk their 
scalps by settling there. Very frequently the 
United States troops from Detroit were summoned 
and there was no end of butchering and torturing. 
In 1833, just seventy-one years ago, Chicago had 
only two hundred inhabitants. During that year a 
little school-house was built to accommodate twen¬ 
ty-five children. A newspaper was established, and 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 141 

a log jail was built, Tvliich was the greatest neces¬ 
sity of all. In 1837 Chicago was incorporated as a 
city, and in 1839, the first brewery was established. 
In 1844 the population had increased to 12,000, and 
when October 8th to 10th, 1871, mighty flames 
swept over the entire territory between the river 
and the lake, the population numbered 300,000 
people. Her growth has been so remarkable that 
the whole world points to her as the ideal American 
city, notable for her indomitable ambition and en¬ 
terprise; she has nearly 2,000,000 people and in 
another quarter of a century will doubtless double 
the number.” 

“Wal, it ’pears to me that any city would be 
monstrous big if they took in all the surrounding 
country fur miles and miles in order to count noses. 
I have an idee Indianapolis might hustle her a' leetle 
fur size, if she tacked on her gas belt,” said Uncle 
Bob. 

When they arrived at the depot, their ears buzzed 
w T ith the multitudinous noises of the great city, and 
the same tremor they had experienced upon reach¬ 
ing New York stole over them. The dingy, iron 
staircase leading to the waiting-rooms rose before 
them, but a colored man stood at the foot to direct 
them to a place of exit. 

“What a black, awful place it is, and how scared 


142 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


I am!” gasped Aunt Becky, her startled eyes cor¬ 
roborating her assertion. “It sounds like all the 
thunder and locomotives and ship-whistles and lum¬ 
ber wagons in the universe was turned loose and 
running wild.” 

“There’s something American about it, though, 
and it thrills a feller,” declared Uncle Bob, from an 
opposing standpoint. “It makes a man feel as 
though he had an aim and was willing to make a 
bold dash to win his crown.” 

At that moment a gust of wind took off his hat 
and hurled it to the other side of the street. He 
scrambled awkwardly after it, but every time he 
stooped to pick it up the exasperating gale, too 
swift for one so corpulent as our hero from the Old 
Pine Tree state, gave it another toss, rolling and 
blowing until Michigan Avenue had been reached 
before he could recover it. 

Say, Bob, since you’ve won your crown, I s’pose 
you kin set back on your laurels and take it a leetle 
easy,” said Aunt Becky, laughing immoderately, as 
she overtook him, carrying the luggage he had 
dropped in the gutter. 

“We’ll sew a rubber to your hat and snap it 
around your chin,” laughed Buth. 

“I was bound I’d get that dod-gasted hat if I had 
to run the whole length of the main street,” said 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


143 



Uncle Bob trying to rescue his hat from a gust of wind. 
































































144 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Uncle Bob, breathing heavily, and wiping the mud 
from his battered crown. “It’s strange how helpless 
and unrespectable a man feels without the thing on 
his head called—hat.” 

“Especially if the top of his head is as bare as a 
loaf of home-made bread,” spoke Aunt Becky, still 
laughing. 

“I’d rather have a bare head that was my own 
than an artificial one made out of somebody else’s 
hair,” sarcastically replied Uncle Bob. “You’d bet¬ 
ter watch out, Becky, or the she-bears will git you. 
Anyway a bald head don’t reflect so much on a man 
as it does on his wife.” 

“Yours is bare and shiny enough to reflect most 
anything. In fact, it’s more shiny on the surface 
than it is inside,” retaliated Aunt Becky. “If your 
manners was as polished as your old bald pate, 
you’d be a heap better off.” 

“You’re dead right, and I might have married one 
of them Vanderbilt gals instead of Becky Brindle, 
too. You may put it down as a fact, Becky, you 
never saw a bald-headed fool.” 

“Now, Uncle and Auntie, let’s don’t stop to match 
wits, for we are all tired and hungry and should 
find a hotel,” interrupted Ruth, when a suitable 
climax had been attained. 

After wandering for another half hour through 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


145 


the heart of the city, where Uncle Bob commented 
upon the sky-scrapers and the elevated railways, 
they found a hotel in Dearborn Street, where accom¬ 
modations were engaged for the night. 

Aunt Becky and Ruth retired early, but Uncle 
Bob begged to be permitted to enjoy a smoke in the 
office. Three times he re-filled his corn-cob pipe and 
smoked with greedy satisfaction; but for once that 
comforter of his restless meditations proved ineffi¬ 
cient. He longed to sniff the mysterious atmo¬ 
sphere that enveloped the vast city, and, although 
he had been assured by the clerk that careful men 
did not wander about in the streets of Chicago late 
at night, his youthful daring seized him like a breeze 
from Lake Michigan and carried him out to the 
sidewalk in front of the hotel. 

A tall woman in black,, wearing a picture hat 
covered with flame-red poppies, swept from the 
ladies’ entrance at the same time and came straight 
towards him. His heart palpitated pleasurably, for 
she came close enough for him to admire the vivid 
roses that bloomed on her cheeks and the artistic 
pencil strokes that made her eyebrows strikingly 
symmetrical. A delicate odor of perfume filled his 
nostrils, and the rustle of silken skirts added to the 
hallucination that she was some woman of exalted 
position. 


146 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Will you please step out here a moment, sir? 
Those horrid men sit there in the windows with 
their feet on the sills and stare so at women, one 

really hates to pass by,” 
said the siren, in soft, se¬ 
ductive tones. 

Uncle Bob obeyed as 
promptly as if it were 
Aunt Becky who gave 
the order. 

“You don’t remember 
me, do you?” asked the 
woman, placing her 
gloved hands upon the 
lapel of his coat and giv¬ 
ing it a playful twitch. 
“Of course you don’t you 
old dear. I was such a 
mere baby when I left 
your place.” 

“What! do you mean 
Skowhegan?” cried 



“ You don't remember me, do you f ** 


Uncle Bob, delighted that such a beautiful creature 
had trodden his native soil. 

“Certainly; my father was a Skowhegan man.” 
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed the old man. 
“What was his name?” 







THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


147 


“Don’t you remember the man that moved away 
from there about eighteen years ago?” 

The farmer scratched his head and then replied 
thoughtfully: 

“People that are born in Skowhegan generally 
die there, too. Oh, yes! I believe Zachary Tompkins 
moved away about that time.” 

“The very man—he was my father,” said the 
woman, her voice faltering as if reminded of some 
unhappy incident. 

“That’s a lettle queer,” continued Uncle Bob. 
“Zachary Tompkins was a confirmed bachelor and a 
clubfoot.” 

“He was married to my mbther during one of his 
visits to Boston, and he basely deserted her,” w r as 
the affecting reply, as she took from her chatelaine 
bag a miniature lace kerchief, with which she gin 
gerlv wiped her eyes. 

“X alius allowed that there was something crooked 
about Zachary Tompkins besides his feet.” “How 
did you happen to pick me out so quick,” he said? 

“Oh, mother took me to—to Skowhegan once to 
hunt for Father, when I was a baby, and we spent 
a week there. Don’t you remember how T we ate din¬ 
ner with you over sixteen years ago?” 

“You must have been a tarnal wise baby to re¬ 
member so fur back,” said the quaint old man. 


148 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“I’m a wise baby yet/’ replied the woman archly; 
but Uncle Bob only stared uncomprehendingly at 
her. 

“It beats all how these city women age,” he 
drawled. “You don’t look like you could be more 
than five years younger than Zachary.” 

“You horrid man! You always were such a frank, 
interesting old character. Won’t you please walk a 
block or two with me? I’m so afraid along Dear¬ 
born and South Clark Streets, and I’m anxious to 
get home to poor mamma. She is an invalid and I 
am supporting her by teaching music and playing 
minor roles in opera. I’ve just been to a rehearsal.” 

“You don’t mean to say you’re one of them stage 
actresses!” exclaimed Uncle Bob. 

“Yes, I expect to do a great stunt some day, pro¬ 
viding I can get a pull with some good, hustling 
manager who will know how to advertise me in all 
the papers and magazines; that goes a long w T ays 
towards one’s success.” 

“Wal, I’d advise you to git a good place as a 
waiter in a hotel or something else, where you 
wouldn’t be beset with temptations. I’d rather see 
leetle Ruth take in washings than be the best stage 
performer that ever lived.” 

“You’re just like all country people, who know 
little of city life,” laughed the woman good- 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


149 


naturedly. “A girl is beset by the same temptations 
everywhere nowadays and the stage is becoming 
more popular every day.” 

“Sallie Wilkins was stage-struck, and if she’d 
have been lightning-struck it wouldn’t have made 
half as blasted an idiot out of her,” said Uncle Bob, 
noting how gracefully his companion switched 
along, holding her skirts in one hand and a music 
roll in the other. “She did everything to git a 
start—hollered in a mob scene behind the curtain; 
filled up in the back row of a chorus in salmon- 
colored tights, although her figger was pore and she 
couldn’t sing a note; posed as a living fountain in a 
garden scene; mended hose and other garments for 
the actors; and rang the bell for the boy to hist 
the curtain. Finally she got promoted and she got 
the swell-head so bad she was ashamed to own her 
birth-place, although she made a lovely bluff every 
time she saw any of the people who always knowed 
her. She changed her name to Saliva Wilkinsho, 
or some sich outlandish furreign name and thought 
she was in the National Six Hundred. Wal, jist as 
she was going to flash out as a star, another lumin¬ 
ary riz up and crowded in ahead 6f her and, Sallie 
was labeled ‘Back Number’ and put on a lower shelf. 
Lord knows where she is now!” 

“Here is such a nice restaurant. I’m almost dying 


150 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

of hunger,” interrupted the woman in black, looking 
longingly at the show-window, which was filled 
with lobsters, crabs, game and generous clusters of 
lettuce and water-cress. 

“Land, child, you don’t want to eat at this time 
of night, do you? It’s ’most ten o’clock and you’ll 
dream of your great-grandmother,” said Uncle Bob, 
looking at his Waterbury watch. 

“I haven’t had a thing to eat to-day, won’t you 
come in and treat me to a meal?” she said, so wist¬ 
fully that Uncle Bob’s generous heart Avas touched. 

“Wal, we’ll go in and have a leetle bite together,” 
said he, as he led the way. “I don’t s’pose Becky 
would like it, but like as not she’s sweetly sleeping 
in the arms of Orpheus and won’t ever know it.” 

A waiter in full dress seated them at a little 
round table protected from vulgar gaze by a Japan¬ 
ese screen, where the woman began to look over the 
bill of fare. 

“What will you have, Uncle?” she asked some¬ 
what absent-mindedly. 

“Wal, I guess I don’t keer for much,” he replied, 
ashamed to acknowledge his ignorance of French 
names and looking in vain for the ubiquitious ham 
and eggs. “I think I’ll try some corn-cakes and 
doffee and some of this Chinese stuff—what do you 
call it?” 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


151 


He placed his finger upon the name and the 
woman read with facility: 

“Pommes de terre a la Chemise.” 

“It sounds like it might be purty good,” said Uncle 
Bob. 

“They’re simply potatoes with the jackets on,” 
laughed his companion. 

“Baked pertaters!” cried the old man in disgust. 
“I can go anything better than baked pertaters. 
It’s a shame how they gull people in these places 
with them French names. I’ll jist have some corn- 
cakes, coffee and a few radishes.” 

“Oh, let me order for both of us; we will eat and 
be merry,” said the woman, who was artfully en¬ 
trapping poor innocent Uncle Bob. Please bring 
us some fresh Cotuits and Strained Gumboen 
Tasse, Pirn Olas, Imported Maquereaux a PHuile, 
Souffle of Parmesan Cheese and Royal a la 
Bordelaise; and for the fish course, two Boiled 
Lobsters a la Victoria and Filet of Pompans, Mar- 
query, some Turkey Livers saute, Piemontaise et en 
brochette, Filet Mignon Bijou, Sweetbread Patties 
a la Creme, Diamond Back Terrapin, Compote de 
Versailles Squab, Chiffonade Salad with May- 
onaise, Asparagus Cardon a la Moelle, Spaghetti a 
PItalienne, Macaroni au gratin, Creme Renversee 
au Caramel, Meringue Chantilly, Biscuit Tortoni, 


152 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Parfait au Cafe and Pistache, Special Demi-Tasse; 
also some Gorganzola with small coffees, some 
Creme de Menthe and Claret for the meat course. 
Also bring a bottle of Champagne—Mumm’s Extra 
Dry, at once.” 

The waiter, as well as Uncle Bob, seemed stag¬ 
gered and the latter exclaimed: 

“Gee whizz! you’ve got an appetite like a 
thrasher.” 

“I haven’t had a square meal for a week and I 
shall never be able to repay you for your kindness,” 
replied the girl, tears springing to her dark eyes, 
which were carefully removed with the lace ker¬ 
chief that was again produced from the chatelaine 
bag. 

“Don’t mention it, leetle gal. Jist eat till you 
founder and then lay awake all night if you want 
to. You must come and see Aunt Becky and me 
at our old homestead near Skowhegan, and we’ll 
feed you till you’re as sleek and fat as one of our 
shotes. You and Ruth would have a fine time to¬ 
gether,” said the old man, his generous heart beat¬ 
ing in sympathy with the girl’s apparent distress. 

“You are very kind to a poor orphan girl,” said 
the fair banqueter gratefully. 

The woman sat contentedly drinking champagne 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


153 


while Uncle Bob, afraid to show his ignorance of 
city life, took an occasional sip. 

At the close of the sumptuous feast, the woman 
said with a fine display of modesty: 

“Oh, Uncle, I want to ask a favor of you that 
makes me tremble with shame; but iUs a' case of 
necessity,”—and Uncle Bob really imagined that 
her rosy cheeks were intensified by blushes. 

“Poor, dear mamma and I have to pay our rent 
or be evicted, and if you will just loan me twenty 
dollars, I will pay it back in a month, and be your 
everlasting friend. I ? ll send it to you sure if you 
give me your address.” 

“I am not a bloated bond-holder; but I never turn 
down a person in need, and if you say you will send 
it, here goes.” Thrusting his hand in his trousers 
pocket, he took out an old flat wallet, containing 
several good-sized bills, and with a smile on his 
face, he handed her the amount. “My address,” he 
continued, “is Uncle Bob Springer, Skowhegan, 
Maine. You don’t need to pinch yourself to pay it 
all back at once.” 

In the midst of their conversation, while the sup¬ 
posed Miss Tompkins was thanking him profusely 
for his generosity, the waiter presented him with a 
bill amounting to thirty-three dollars. 

The old man was too dumbfounded to speak for 


154 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



$33,00!” Uncle Bob exclaimed. “Dodgast the 
luck } I won't pay it. *' 

















































THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


155 


a few moments, and he looked as if he were dying 
of heart failure; then his omnipresent spunk bub¬ 
bled to the surface, as was always the case, when¬ 
ever he felt that he had been imposed upon. 

“Thirty-three dollars!” he cried. “This is another 
holdup game! Why, you kin live in Skowhegan a 
year on thirty-three dollars! Dodgast these dis¬ 
honest, unprincipled fellers! The idea of taking 
advantage of a man just ’cause he has a gal with 
him. I’ll be tarred and feathered and drawed and 
quartered before I’ll pay it!” 

He brought his heavy fist down upon the table 
with such violence, all the glasses took a sudden 
leap in the air, while his guest gave a little scream 
and grabbed the champagne bottle to rescue it. 

“Why, Uncle, that’s not very much to pay in a 
city like Chicago,” she said in a soft, wheedling 
voice, “you will certainly have to pay it or the 
management will get you into trouble. It’s custo¬ 
mary to tip the waiter, too.” 

“I’ll pay the money rather than be arrested, but 
I’d like to give the nagur a tip that would send him 
into the middle of next Christmas. Nary a cent 
will I give him,” growled Uncle Bob, producing his 
wallet and counting out the money. 

“Massa, I’m not to blame, sah* you must repote 


156 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


to de office/’ said the waiter, beginning to be 
frightened. 

“It would bust a feller up to board at this place. 
I could give a tarnal sight better meal than this in 
Skowhegan and wouldn’t have the face to charge 
a cent fur it,” he continued angrily, as he followed 
his stately charmer out upon the street. 

The revivifying champagne soon routed his right¬ 
eous spleen and shortly they were chatting gaily 
as they sauntered along. They met a policeman on 
the corner and Uncle Bob, suddenly wheeling about, 
said to him: 

“Say, mister, won’t you tell us the best place to 
take in the sights?” 

The policeman took him by the arm and pulled 
him to the edge of the curb, saying in a low voice: 

“It seems to me that you’re getting taken in your¬ 
self. Do you know that woman?” 

“She’s an actress—an old friend of mine,” replied 
Uncle Bob, staggering with apprehension. 

“If you have any place to go, you’d better go at 
once and not let that harpy pull your leg or get you 
into trouble that may cost you dearly. She’s the 
most notorious blackmailer and adventuress in 
Chicago, and that’s saying a good deal.” 

Uncle Bob slowly turned around, but the so-called 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


157 


daughter of Zatffiary Tompkins had taken the cue 
and had vanished. 

Thanking the man on the beat, he set out for his 
hotel, mumbling wrathfully to himself: “I guess 
Becky is right when she says there’s no fool like an 
old one. That female bandit would have picked and 
singed me like a chicken and tied me up by both 
feet. I’m mighty lucky to git out of it as well as 
I did, any way.” 

It was two hours before he found the hotel he 
wanted, and it was with a sheepish look that he 
entered the office, where the clerk seemed rejoiced 
to see him. 

“You’ve given your wife a terrible scare, old man, 
and you’d better git right upstairs and tell her you 
are still living,” said the clerk. “She insisted in 
putting advertisements in all the papers and begged 
me to have all the bells in the city rung and get out 
a searching party; but I saw you leave with a nice- 
looking lady and I thought it would be too bad to 
spoil your good time, so I simply threatened her 
with the police to keep her still.” 

“And you—you didn’t tell her about that woman!” 
cried the old man, his hair standing erect. 

“I should say not. A great majority of the mar¬ 
ried men that visit Chicago, are up to these ‘high 
jinks’, and it’s not policy to interfere.” 


158 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Here’s a five-dollar bill, mister. I’m very much 
obliged to you and I reckon I’d better run up and 
have it out with Becky,” said Uncle Bob, his mind 
quickly running the gamut of plausible excuses. 

He found his wife dressed, even to her hat and 
gloves, setting upon the bed, with an expression 
upon her face that bespoke volumes of distrust and 
reproach. 

“Wal, Becky, you’re trigged out as if you was 
going to a tea party. Why ain’t you in bed?” broke 
forth Uncle Bob with an air of jolly bravado. 

“I was jist going to send Mayor Harrison out after 
you—you deceiving, red-faced, pussy, old muskrat! 
You ain’t fit to live in a respectable community and 
you can’t be trusted any more than that profligate, 
old Barnabas Sykes, with a wooden leg, who used 
to take up the collection Sunday mornings, and 
* thrash his wife during the week. I only wish you 
had a pewter leg, so I could yank it off and beat 
you nigh to death,” she continued as she disrobed. 

“Mebbe your switch would do jist as well,” sug¬ 
gested Uncle Bob, dodging a false pass. 

“You evil-minded, notorious, pernicious, foxy, old 
billy-goat! You ort to be led around with a halter 
all the time! Where have you been, and what have 
you been doing?” 

“Wal, Becky dear, I didn’t expect sich a warm 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


159 


reception. I was out getting the lay of the town 
a lettle and met a business man from Portland, who 
took me to a swell church on—on South Clark street, 
and—” 



“ You unprincipled , blear-eyed sot! You Mormon! I'll not stay 
in the room with you /” 


“How dare you stand up there and prevaricate 
that way to a woman of my sense? Don’t you 
s’pose I kin smell the hard cider on your breath— 





















































160 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


you inebriated, unprincipled, blear-eyed, Poland- 
China sot!” 

Uncle Bob clung tenaciously to his corner, while 
his infuriated wife continued her railing in a loud 
voice, hurling at him startling, mixed metaphors 
and appellations thought to be highly appropriate 
for the occasion. Just as he believed there would be 
a lull in the storm, and that Aunt Becky would col¬ 
lapse and seek refuge in tears as usual, something 
fell from his pocket, which proved to be the lace 
kerchief that Zachary Tompkins’s alleged daughter 
had entrusted to him for safe keeping. 

“Oh you wretch!” cried the woman, pouncing upon 
the perfumed fabric and reading the name neatly 
worked in one corner. “So you’ve been out with 
Lizzie—sweet Lizzie—some bold-faced trollop, too 
low to associate with sheep, but twicet too good fur 
you! I can’t find words to express my contempt fur 
sich a pusillanimous, old weasel as you be!” 

“Wal, you’re doing very nicely, Becky, I hain’t 
heard nothing like it since I heard Carrie Nation 
going fur the saloon-keepers. When you git cooled 
off I kin make satisfactory explanation,” returned 
Uncle Bob. 

“Of course you kin. You kin make excuses if 
you have plenty of time, but I’ve knowed you long 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


161 


enough to realize that your oath is not worth a 
snap!” 

“I don’t know how I ever got that handerchief, 
unless I picked it up in the church, or on the street 
w T hen we was talking politics and discussing impor¬ 
tant events of the day. I wonder who it belongs to.” 

“Well, you deceiving, untruthful reprobate of 
a Judas Iscariot—you cloven-footed vampire! 
Didn’t the hotel clerk tell me you went out walking 
with old Liz Spicer, the worst old tartar that walks 
the streets of Chicago, who makes a riving from 
soft, old fools like you! You kin stay here all 
night and sleep with your conscience. I’m going to 
git in with Ruth. I’d rather make my bed in a nest 
of scorpions and tarantulas and suffer with night¬ 
mares all night than breathe the same air with a 
contaminated old Mormon,” terminated Aunt 
Becky, as she swept from the room, banging the 
door behind her. 

“Ain’t a feller clean daffy that thinks he kin 
deceive a woman by prevaricating? As it is now, 
I’ll pever hear the last of it, and that dod-gasted 
woman—that infernal Liz! that tarnal dishonest 
clerk that giv ther whole thing away!” groaned 
Uncle Bob, as he rolled into bed, half-dressed. 
“That’s alius the way—the feller that tries to do 


162 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the most for others, raises the most suspicion and 
gits the hardest kicks in the end.” 

For some time he kicked around in bed, regretting 
that he had been led into eating a midnight supper. 
Gradually his unrest became intensified until man¬ 
like, he began to groan and mumble to himself in 
a low [voice. 

Whether Uncle Bob’s suffering was real or pre¬ 
tended, probably will never be known; but it is 
safe to say, however, that he carried his point. 

Aunt Becky, who, in the adjoining apartment, 
occupied by Ruth, had likewise been wakeful, hast¬ 
ened to her husband’s bedside. 

“What’s the matter, Bob? Is it your conscience 
that’s wrastlin’ with you?” she asked with some 
satisfaction. 

“No, no, it’s that red-backed, irregular shaped, 
pinch jawed animal and it’s gnawin’ at my inter¬ 
nals,” he moaned as he tossed and tumbled about. 

“Great sakes alive, Bob, what kind of an animal 
is it? They told me they didn’t have a bedbug in 
the house,” said Aunt Becky, beginning to make a 
systematic search for the unwelcome guest. 

“It’s somethin’ I have eat. Great guns! I’m 
afraid I’m goin’ to die,” whined Uncle Bob. “Oh, 
if I had only stayed with you!” 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


163 


“Like as not that woman Lizzie gave you some 
poisoned candy. They’re up to them tricks; the 
papers are full of it. What kind of an animal was 
it?” 

“I believe it was something they call a ‘lobster,’ ” 
said Uncle Bob. 

“Shall I get the peppermint, or call for a hot 
water bottle, or have the doctor bring up a stomach 
pump—Oh, Bob, what is the matter!” 

“That’s always the way with women. If you only 
keep quiet awhile, Becky, maybe I can get to sleep. 
Here, Becky, quick! I believe the dod-gasted thing 
is cornin’ up! Hurry, Becky, I’m almost gone!” 

Aunt Becky, reaching for her traveling bag, 
quickly took out a bottle. “Here, Bob Springer, I 
hain’t goin’ to have you sick on my hands. Turn 
over this minute and take this.” 

“What is it?” feebly gasped the old man. “I am 
goin’ to know" hereafter what I take into my 
insides.” 

“Doctor Ilorehound’s Specific for the Externals 
and Internals, Warranted to Stop the most Severe 
Pain,” answered Aunt Becky, pretending to read the 
label on the bottle. 

“Let her go then,” he said, opening his mouth 
widely, while Aunt Becky administered a liberal 
dose, which the old man swallowed reluctantly. 


164 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“To her amazement, Uncle -Bob suddenly turned 
upon his pillow and sunk into a deep slumber, which 
was measured off by healthy snores that assured 
her he was not dead. She looked anxiously at him 
for a few moments and then giving him a gentle 



kiss upon the forehead, the faithful old wife, who 
had shared his bed and board unremittingly for 
forty years, crept in beside him and also soon fell 
asleep. 

At breakfast, Aunt Becky’s wrath seemed to be 

















THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


165 


completely covered with the mantle of charity and 
she did not allude to the scene of the night before, 
believing that Uncle Bob’s conscience had been 
goaded enough to keep him straight for several 
weeks. When they had finished their meal, they 
set out to see the city and were soon fairly well 
accustomed to the incongruous sights, sounds and 
smells that at first had distracted them. 

“Somehow I alius thought a good deal of this 
town, ’cause it’s in the state where Abraham Lin¬ 
coln lived,” said Uncle Bob loyally. “You know he 
emancipated the slaves and did more to make this 
a united country than any other man. He repre¬ 
sented all that was good, noble and true; he was 
alius near the common people, fur the common 
people and by the common people.” 

“Now, Bob, don’t stop to quote history, fur we 
are in the most wicked and progressive city in the 
world, and must keep movin’,” insisted Aunt Becky. 

“I never saw so many broad-shouldered, six-foot¬ 
ers in my life as I have since I arrived in Illinois,” 
said Ruth. 

“Jist think of it, Becky, our leetle Ruth is begin¬ 
ning to notice the men folks,” chuckled Uncle Bob. 
“Wal, they are a purty likely-looking lot on the 
whole, and I don’t blame her. But while you are 
looking for broad shoulders, Ruth, I am sizing up 


166 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the women’s feet. They don’t seem to be backward 
about showing ’em either. I can’t see that they’re 
any bigger than the ones we saw in other cities, and 
I’m anxious to see how they’ll compare with them 
at St. Louis.” 

“Now, Bob Springer, you could employ your time 
better than to be lookin’ at women’s feet, and smilin’ 
at every female that comes along,” said Aunt Becky, 
“and you should follow out the motto of our church 
society at home, and Took up, not down.’ ” 

“That’s just what I’m tryin’ to do, Becky; but 
sometimes you can’t always do it,” said Uncle Bob. 

“Bob, an old man like you with one foot in the 
grave, and t’other just outside ought to be thinkin’ 
of the future.” 

“Maybe, but when the world w r as made, every¬ 
thing was created for man’s enjoyment, and as 
woman was the grandest, most beautiful of, all, I 
think it is man’s duty to smile whenever he has 
a chance.” 

The Masonic Temple, the Auditorium, the Monad- 
nock, the Rialto and other great buildings filled 
them with amazement, and Uncle Bob stood for 
several minutes before each one, counting the 
stories with the assistance of his wife’s umbrella. 

“There’s the Iroquois Theater,” said Ruth, with a 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


167 


shudder, as they halted before the massive, ornate 
structure, cold and deserted, which is still an object 
of abhorrence to Chicago citizens and a magnet for 
the curious visitor. 

“Six hundred precious lives extinguished in a 
few moments—most of ’em trusting children and 
girls and women—all because of carelessness. It’s 
the saddest thing in modern history,” said sympa¬ 
thetic Aunt Becky, her eyes filling with tears. “I 
wish I could have done something to help ’em.” 

“Let’s not look at it any longer,” said Ruth. “That 
stone Indian that projects his head from above the 
arch, stern and unrelenting, looks as if he were 
inwardly gloating—as if he were one of the old 
chiefs who used to fight the early palefaces in 
Chicago, and had succeeded in his mission of bring¬ 
ing about a terrible revenge.” 

They finally turned on La Salle street and came 
to the Board of Trade, a large, granite building, 
through whose great portals scores of men and 
boys passed in eager haste. Uncle Bob, having 
obtained a good view of its imposing front, was 
anxious to go inside. 

“Don’t go in; Bob, for you know how you used to 
speculate, and it may be the ruination of you,” rem¬ 
onstrated Aunt Becky, trying to restrain him; but 
he was determined to learn something 'of its intri- 


168 


UNCLE BOB AND^UNT BECKY 


cate mechanism, and at last he prevailed upon them 
to accompany him. 

They ascended one of the twisting, iron flights of 
stairs at the side of the entrance and soon found 
themselves in a spacious corridor, leading to the 
floor of the greatest grain market in the world. 

“Have you got a ticket?” asked a man in uniform, 
who stayed their progress. 

“I didn’t know you had to buy a ticket. How 
much are they?” said Uncle Bob. 

“You are evidently not a member nor a broker,” 
replied the man with a cynical smile, “go up those 
stairs to the visitor’s balcony and satisfy your 
curiosity from there.” 

From this point of vantage, which was filled with 
curious- spectators from all parts of the country, 
they could look down upon the vast floor, teeming 
jvith exicted men and fleet messenger boys, all of 
whom deported themselves in a manner that sug¬ 
gested to Aunt Becky the possibility that they had 
entered an insane asylum by mistake. To the left 
were the two circular grain pits, crowded to their 
utmost capacity, and to the right were the provision 
pits, hardly so densely packed, but equally as noisy. 
On the east side of the spacious hall were long rows 
of marble-top tables, where brokers sold grain by 
sample, and on the west side was an immense rec- 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


169 


tangle, containing scores of telegraph operators 
who kept the wires warm, communicating with 
every prominent city in the country—five being re¬ 
quired to look after the New York business alone. 

Placed in convenient nooks were bulletin boards 
and the weather forecast, while the center of the 
room contained chairs for speculators, many of 
whom were the heads of firms, represented by a 
dozen or more brokers. An adjoining room was 
partially filled with influential plungers who smoked 
in quiet seclusion, rather than undergo the noise 
and publicity of the main floor. The clock opposite 
the visitor’s gallery pointed to noon. It was still 
an hour before the gong should announce that the 
business of the day was at an end, and within that 
brief space of time fortunes might be made and 
lost. 

“Ain’t it funny how they all git out on that round 
platform and holler and go through all kinds of 
crazy antics? I never seen sich manners in my 
life,” said Aunt Becky, in disgust. “It puts me in 
mind of a swarm of blow flies in a fresh apple pie.” 

“That’s the grain pitfall, Becky,” explained Uncle 
Bob. “It’s the principal business center, and the 
one across the way is the meat pit. I s’pose the 
fellers that snort and stamp around the wheat pit 
are the bulls and them that make fur the meat pit 
are the bears.” 

“Oh, no,” interrupted a visitor to the city, who had 
received a ticket from an influential friend, but had 
lost it, and thus had been barred from participating 
in the active whirl, “the bears are the ones who 
depress the value of stocks and the bulls are those 
who boost it up.” 


I 


170 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

“I didn’t know this was sich an overwhelming 
spectacle,” declared Uncle Bob, looking wistfully 
down at the shouting men, who were waving slips 
of paper and fairly tearing their clothes in their 
excitement. “It’s a big, blatant bedlam, if there 
ever was one and Belial reigns supreme. I wouldn’t 
mind taking a chance myself if I wasn’t afeard that 
between the bulls and the bears I’d come out with¬ 
out a square inch of linen to my back. It ain’t the 
place for a fat man with rheumatiz like me.” 

“It’s a regular gambling business and ort to be 
suppressed,” said Aunt Becky. 

“Speculation is gambling, of course,” said the 
stranger; “but the Americans accumulate their 
wealth by speculation, and that is what makes our 
nation a prosperous one. Ninety per cent, of all 
the transactions here are purely speculations— 
trades made by persons who do not expect to receive 
or deliver a kernel of grain. The Chicago market ' 
rules the world, and without a Board of Trade the 
grain business would crumble to pieces in North 
America, and all cereals raised would have less 
value. Chicago receives over 300,000,000 bushels 
of grain and 15,000,000 head of live stock annually. 
New York is tame in comparison. During the work¬ 
ing hours of this vast enterprise, fabulous quantities 
of grain are bought by a sign and delivered by a 
piece of paper in the form of a warehouse receipt. 
You can see with what facility they work. If the 
gallery spectators only knew the value of the deals 
made, they wouldn’t wonder at the intense excite¬ 
ment.” 

“It’s just like a play,” said Ruth. 

“Yes, miss, with the exception that at a play the 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


111 


galleries make all the noise, and here they’re as 
quiet as the grave,” said the stranger politely. 

“It’s really curious,” said Ruth with a little laugh. 

“The Board of Trade is governed by very just laws 
and is powerfully organized. A seat sometimes can¬ 
not be bought for less than $4,000.” 

“Fur mercy sake!” exclaimed Aunt Becky, “and 
they’re sich uncomfortable-looking, stiff-backed 
seats, too. I never saw the beat. It seems as fool¬ 
ish fur a man to pay that price fur a seat as it did 
fur a society woman in New York to pay $80,000 for 
a picture of a nude baby.” 

“I’d like to chance a leetle money,” whispered 
Uncle Bob to the speaker, while a strange twinkle 
kindled in his eye. “I’ve got only a leetle bit left, 
but I’m anxious to make some more. I was alius 
lucky at speculating. In fact, I won my wife by 
speculation. Zeke Stokes and me was both trying 
to win her, and a rich old farmer, named Ab. Skin¬ 
ner offered a span of mules to the one that landed 
her. It was a hard scuffle and I had to give up 
chawing terbaccer and go to revival meetings every 
night all winter long to do it; but I was the suc¬ 
cessful candidate. Mebbe Becky wasn’t rabid when 
she heard about it. She said she’d rather run the 
risk of being an old maid than be throwed in with 
a span of mules to keep house fur a gambler.” 

“I know where there is a reliable broker close by, 
and he’ll be glad to do the business for you. I shall 
be pleased to have you meet him—ccme on,” said 
the stranger sotto voce. 

“Here goes,” declared the old man, his eyes shin¬ 
ing as if he had suddenly been seized by a raging 


172 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


fever. “Becky we’ll be back in a few minutes. I 
want to meet a feller down there.” 

The two men hastened down the stairs, three 
steps at a time, leaving Aunt Becky and Ruth sorely 
perturbed. It was only a walk of a few minutes to 
the headquarters of the Central Valley Stock and 
Grain Company, where the stranger pushed Uncle 
Bob into a large room with an office at the further 
end. Two clerks were writing dow r n quotations 
upon the blackboards, which covered the walls of 
the room, and the click of tickers was heard above 
the voices of the petty players, who lolled around 
upon chairs and benches, smoking and expectorat¬ 
ing freely. 

Uncle Bob was introduced to a fat, red-faced man, 
who said in a business-like way: 

“Did you want to buy or sell, Mr. Springer?” 

“Sell? Wal, I hain’t got nothing to sell jist now, 
as my crops were no good last year, but I expect 
to have plenty this fall,” replied Uncle Bob. 

“Oh, you don’t understand,” said the man laugh¬ 
ing. “We don’t mean actual grain. This business 
is done in margins. How much have you to invest?” 

I’ll only put up one hundred and fifty dollars, and 
if that goes I can’t spare a cent more, as we are on 
our way to the World’s Fair at St. Louis, in old 
Missouri, and I don’t want to git left among 
strangers.” 

“May wheat is a good risk and you can put up 
that amount of margin on it. Let’s say ten thousand 
bushels of May wheat,” said the broker. “You’re 
liable to double your money.” 

“Good,” said the old farmer, pulling from his 
pocket the money. The old gentleman with an anx- 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


173 


ious expression on his face stood up against the 
wall, waiting and hoping that every moment would 
bring news of his success. 

“My friend, I am sorry to say that May wheat’s 
gone down a half cent,” announced the man who 
had brought him to the bucket shop. 

“Perhaps this is another hold-up game,” said 
Uncle Bob. “Dodgast the luck!” 

“It’s a risk of course,” replied the broker, “but if 
you try your luck again you might win out.” 

“Wal, maybe it will go up again,” philosophically 
said Uncle Bob. 

“By jinks, it has gone dow T n again another cent,” 
explained his friend, apparently much exercised. 

“Wal, it will probably take a jump in a minute,” 
said Uncle Bob, lighting his corn-cob pipe. “You 
know there’s a re-action to every action.” 

“Mister, your margin is all eaten up,” said the 
fat broker, advancing towmrds him from the office. 

“Yes, I s’pose them dod-gasted operators there 
eat it up,” flared Uncle Bob, angrily. “Am I to be 
flattened out ag’in the wall now?” 

“I’d advise you to stay in the game, as the market 
is bound to go up,” said the broker encouragingly. 
“Put up another fifty dollars and see if I’m not 
right. You see the market on all good things 
fluctuates.” 

“Wal, I’ll put up another fifty dollars, but I’ll be 
blanked if I’ll venture another cent,” said Uncle 
Bob, reluctantly producing the money. 

Only the man who has had a similar experience 
in a bucket shop, run upon dishonest principles, can 
appreciate the feelings experienced, by the old man 
during the exciting hour that followed. Being 


xn 


174 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 















































































THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


175 


unfamiliar with the technical terms and the modus 
operandi employed, he could only blindly follow the 
suggestions of his acquaintance, the broker, who 
recommended him to buy and sell and hedge, stir¬ 
ring him with false hopes and skillfully filching 
additional greenbacks from his wallet, until he 
realized that he was three hundred and fifty dollars 
poorer than when he entered the place. 

“I ain’t going to put up another penny!” he cried, 
as he tottered to his feet, pale and excited. “Any¬ 
body’s a fool that’ll play see-saw with May wheat, 
and I’m going to quit. There ain’t no room fur 
leetle fish in this great, reaking cess-pool of iniq¬ 
uity; all the whales eat up the suckers. The Board 
of Trade is a low-down, corrupt twin brother of old 
Wall street, and I’ve learned a lesson that will last 
me the rest of my life.” 

“But this is not the Board of Trade; this is a 
bucket shop,” said the ever present victimizer. 

“Wal, whatever it is, it’s scurvy mean anyway. 
Somehow or other, when I don’t listen to Becky, I’m 
a loser. She’s got a heap of good hard common 
hoss sense, even if she is homely, and the only way 
I kin be safe is to cleave unto her apron strings and 
let the game of chance alone.” 

When he had finished his denunciation of the 
Board of Trade and bucket shops, to which nobody 
paid the slightest heed, so common was such an 
occurrence, he returned to his family, trying hard 
to smile and appear at ease. The great gong had 
just announced that it was one o’clock, and a corps 
of clerks was already checking up the business of 
the day. 

“Where have you been, Bob?” inquired his wife 


176 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


in alarm. “I allowed mebbe you’d gone down to 
one of them pits and either been tossed by the 
bulls or had your pocket-book hugged and smashed 
to smithereens by the bears.” 

“Nonsense, Becky, you alius look on the improb¬ 
able side of things. I went down to see a man who 
gave me a few valuable pointers on this big she¬ 
bang, and I don’t thing much of it. It puts me in 
mind of that sign over Si Tucker’s shop at Skow- 
hegan: ‘All sorts of twistin’ and turnin’ done here.’ 
Let’s get out of the dod-gasted place, fur the 
stampede is over now and we ain’t so liable to git 
our backs broke.” 

The street was unusually congested with pedes¬ 
trians, many of them running and deporting them¬ 
selves in a wildly-excitable manner, so that Uncle 
Bob was filled with a new misgiving. 

“Say, mister, is this town going to be destroyed by 
fire ag’in?” he asked of a man who was rushing 
along with a bag of cream puffs in one hand. 

“Not that I know of—why?” replied the man, 
stopping suddenly. 

“Where’s the fire?” 

“What fire?” 

“Don’t you see people running to break their 
necks in all directions, as if they were trying to 
escape from some terrible calamity?” 

“There isn’t any fire. The people are going to 
lunch and it’s this way every day here. Chicago 
people move and act quickly, you know; we have to. 
If you look in at one of those lunch counters you 
will see men taking in a piece of pie, three chocolate 
eclairs and a cup of coffee at one gulp, while others 
stand around ready to grab their seats as soon as 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


177 


they git out of the way. You must be a hayseed.” 

“Wal, I may be a hayseed, but I wouldn’t be 
dunce enough to ruin my digestive apparatuses like 
you do here in Chicago. No wonder you people out 
here die before the time. 

After a quiet lunch at a Madison street restau 
rant, Uncle Bob, who had always been interested 
in reading of the Chicago Stock Yards, inquired the 
way to that renowned spot and thither they pro¬ 
ceeded on a South Halsted street car. 

Reaching Thirty-ninth street, they passed under 
the great arched entrance, when they found them¬ 
selves upon a wide busy thoroughfare, flanked by 
stores of every description. Men in broad brimmed 
hats and top boots wandered about from place to 
place. Cattle rangers upon mettlesome steeds and 
laborers in soiled denim gave the place a frontier 
aspect. 

Occasionally, business men, decidedly eastern in 
dress and manners; Southerners, less conventional, 
but with characteristic sharpness of eye and dignity 
of bearing; and Westerners from the great plains 
and mountains beyond, loud and jovial, with ruddy, 
wholesome faces and fine physiques—all men of 
means and influence, participated in the ever-chang¬ 
ing pageant; while herdsmen, shouting and cracking 
their whips, drove immense herds of cattle and 
flocks of sheep along the street to their temporary 
pens. 

“Gee whizz! This is a town all by itself!” ex¬ 
claimed Uncle Bob, in delighted surprise. “There 
are boot and shoe stores, dry-goods stores, restau¬ 
rants, saloons and a newspaper office, and the build¬ 
ings are all first class, too. A feller could live in 


178 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


this here Swineville and be contented. It’s the most 
comfortable, homelike place I’ve seen since we left 
Skowhegan.” 

“Yes, but sick a terrible stench!” ejaculated Aunt 
Becky, placing her kerchief firmly against her 
nostrils. 

“Say, mister, kin you tell us where to go to see 
’em slaughter?” asked Uncle Bob of a pompous, 
Texas cattle dealer, who was enjoying a pipe 
near-by. 

“Keep straight ahead and watch out for signs,” 
replied the man placidly. “You can’t lose the way, 
if you follow their directions. You’ll soon find your¬ 
self inside the visitor’s w r aiting-room at one of the 
great concerns, where you can amuse yourself until 
the guide comes to show you through the building.” 

“Say, mister, will you be kind enough to tell me 
what them big spires are over there? Surely they 
hain’t got a meeting-house in the stock yards,” said 
Aunt Becky. 

“Those are water towers, madam,” replied the 
man, greatly amused. “They hold thousands of 
gallons of water. The reservoirs in these grounds 
hold 8,000,000 gallons, and on hot days nearly 
7,000,000 gallons are consumed. There are ninety 
miles of water pipe lines and over 10,000 hydrants.” 

“Cracky! That beats anything I ever heard tell 
of!” exclaimed Uncle Bob. “I’d hate awfully to 
have to do all the pumping here.” 

“If all our streets were placed in a straight line, 
it would be twenty-five miles long,” continued the 
stranger, impressively, pleased at the interest his 
statistics excited. “There are 475 commission 
offices inside the grounds, 13,000 pens, 250 miles of 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


179 


railroad tracks and fifty miles of electric light 
wires.’ 7 

Uncle Bob looked incredulous and said rather 
impertinently: 

“Say, mister, I’ve heard there were all kinds of 
tales about this here place, but I never heard any 
—wal—quite so tarnal strange as yours.” 

“What I tell you is the gospel truth, 77 replied the 
man irritably. “Just attempt to take a stroll 
through the grounds and you will believe my asser¬ 
tions. Last year nearly 3,500,000 head of cattle, 
7,400,000 hogs and 4,600,000 sheep were received 
here. 77 

“Like as not he wants me to invest in stock, 77 
whispered Uncle Bob to his wife, and then turning 
to the stranger, who had been courteous enough to 
quote the various items of chief interest, he said: 

“Wal, your story sounds very good; but I never 
heard any that sounded so much like a western 
cyclone yarn. It beats all how it blows in Chicago, 
though—don 7 t it? 77 said Uncle Bob. 

“I can quote you some more statistics if you wish, 77 
replied the cattle dealer, turning very red. “I just 
read that there are 11,000,000 asses in the world 
and most of them come from the rural portions of 
North America. Good day, sir. 77 

“Thank you, mister, I 7 m glad to know your nation¬ 
ality. You have quite a fetching way of introduc¬ 
ing yourself, 77 flashed Uncle Bob, with wilting 
sarcasm, as he resumed his stroll. 

“Oh, Uncle, I believe the man meant to be 
courteous and you were very rude, 77 said Ruth, 
much embarrassed. 

“I tell you what, Ruth, I 7 ve had my leg pulled so 


180 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


much, I kin tell a bunco man as fur as I kin see 
him. You know there is an old saying that ‘exper¬ 
ience teaches even fools.’ Mebbe I was a leetle 
testy, but I hate to hear a feller blow and I wanted 
to pick him a leetle, jist as a boy does a toy ballon 
to see it go to pieces.” 



“ There are 11,000,000 asses in the world, and you must be 
one of them,” said the stranger. 


“If people have pride in an institution or town in 
which they are interested, it is natural and quite 
commendable for them to point out its merits to 
strangers. Who blows any more than you do about 
Skowhegan, and yet you call that patriotism!” said 
Ruth rather severely. 









THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


181 


“I guess that’s so, but I didn’t like the way the 
feller giggled at Becky and smiled at you. Cattle 
men get so they look at women jist like they do at 
sows and size ’em up according to the same 
schedule.” 

They at last reached the visitor’s entrance to 
Swift’s great establishment and found themselves 
in a very neat and elegant waiting-room, in com¬ 
pany with a dozen others. A guide, in uniform, soon 
descended in the elevator, over which was the large 
gilt inscription: “This way to the hog killing.” 

The visitors were huddled into this conveyance 
and had begun their ascent, when Aunt Becky cried: 

“My land! do they take all the swine up in this 
elevator?” 

Some of the passengers looked daggers at her, 
but the guide, understanding her perplexity, ex¬ 
plained: 

“No, ma’am that would be a very difficult task, 
as there are thousands of hogs killed every week. 
You follow me and we’ll go to a place where we can 
look down at the killing.” 

They stepped from the elevator and out upon a 
roof, where they were conducted to a long row of 
windows that projected upward from an adjoining 
building, from whence they heard' the most un¬ 
earthly squeals and an odor of pork, too pronounced 
to please even Uncle Bob’s rural predilection. 

“It sounds like ‘Dante’s Infernal,’ ” he said, 
hastening to one of the windows, and bending over 
with great difficulty to obtain a good view. 

“It’s more like the purgatory scene in ‘Faust’ that 
our village amateur dramatic club gave at the 
schoolhouse last winter,” said Aunt Becky, almost 


182 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


suffocating under her kerchief, as she stood near 
an adjoining window. 

A brawny German, with bare arms, lashed the 
poor, fat hogs into a narrow pen, where they 
squealed lustily, as if imploring deliverance from 
the fate that awaited them. A Swede of herculean 
build, seized each one in turn and fastened one of 
its hind legs to a pulley, which was attached to a 
circular disk—something like a Ferris wheel. The 
poor animal was lifted in the air, going through 
extraordinary contortions and emitting yells that 
•sounded like the howling of a hyena in distress?; 
Round and round it went, finally sliding out upon 
a rope, tautly stretched, like a clothes line, and 
when sufficiently near the ground, another muscu¬ 
lar man plunged into its throat the fatal knife. 

The red fluid spurted out upon the gory floor, and 
the poor animal, thus deprived of its ability to 
kick, followed by its ill-fated companions, slid along 
a slowly moving incline towards the vat. 

It’s barbarous, isn’t it?—the poor animals!” cried 
Ruth, withdrawing from the window and refusing 
to look down into the sanguine arena again. 

“Wal, they can’t very well give ’em chloroform,” 
said Uncle Bob, laughing^at the hogs dangling in 
mid air. “I don’t see how they could have devised 
a scheme more humane.” 

“Just think how you’d feel, Bob Springer, to be 
treated that way!” said Aunt Becky, also drawing 
back. 

“I’d willingly have met a fate like that last night 
and smiled when I seen the knife coming—after 
that experience with Lizzie and that dodgasted 
lobster,” replied Uncle Bob, ceasing to grin. 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


183 


“I thought your conscience would trouble you and 
I’m powerful glad it did,” said Aunt Becky, soften¬ 
ing somewhat. 

“It wasn’t my conscience that bothered me so 
much as it was my stomach,” he replied with start¬ 
ling candor. “I eat a chunk of that claw fish lobster 
and I could feel it crawling all night. You know 
they cook ’em alive and I don’t believe the brute’s 
dead yet. If a feller wants to escape the goadings 
of a guilty conscience, when he goes to bed I’d 
advise him to make a supper on a lobster.” 

The guide next ushered them down a flight of 
stairs, where they followed the butchered hogs, 
which were slowly moving along the wires, still 
hanging by one hind leg. 

“Gee whizz! but this is wonderful,” commented 
Uncle Bob with surprise. “We kin foller a hog 
from the time he gits his throat cut, till he comes 
out a mess of backbones, sausage and lard. 
Here are hundreds of men standing in line to peel 
their hides off and others to chop ’em up, and so 
on till their’s nothing to do but put ’em in a car 
and ship ’em. Say, Mister Guide, why does that 
feller set there and tickle every hog’s throat as they 
pass by?” 

“He’s one of the government inspectors,” replied 
the guide. “We have a large number of ’em and 
they are experts in detecting diseases.” 

In like manner they saw scores of sheep driven 
into close pens, slaughtered and prepared for ship¬ 
ment; also cattle, which were first stunned by blows 
upon the head from a sledge. 

“Every time that guide ushers us into a tight 
place, I feel narvous,” complained Aunt Becky. “I 


184 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


expect every minute he’ll grab hold of one of our 
feet and elevate us in the air on a wheel like they 
did the other animals. Let’s git out.” 

They descended to the main floor, where they 
passed through the cooling room and out the back 
way to the immense canning factory of Libby, Mc¬ 
Neil and Libby, where Ruth quickly regained her 
usual cheerful expression. 

In a tidy apartment on the second floor, a woman 
and a girl, in white caps and aprons, stood behind a 
counter, which was loaded with dishes of pressed 
meats and other delicacies garnished with parsley, 
ready to demonstrate the various foods. 

“That oldest one must be Libby and I’m going 
to tell her that I wish she’d use her influence to 
have them hogs killed in a more genteel manner,” 
said Aunt Becky, trying to jostle past those in front 
of her. 

“Oh, Auntie, Libby is a man, of course! That 
woman is one of his employes. Don’t say anything 
about it now,” implored Ruth. 

“By gosh! this is a supper fit fur an alderman,” 
declared Uncle Bob, smacking his lips with relish. 
“It reminds me of Skowhegan. I bet a quarter I’ll 
eat my fill.” 

The woman, whom Aunt Becky took for Libby, 
gave a lengthy talk concerning the merits of their 
canned goods, and the girl placed the bottled goods 
in a similarly favorable light, but none of the tempt¬ 
ing viands were passed around and Uncle Bob’s 
lower jaw began to sag in a disappointed manner. 

“Now, my friends, I hope, since you have learned 
about the superiority of our goods, that you will 
give them a trial. You can get them at any grocery 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


1&5 


store, and they are guaranteed to give satisfac¬ 
tion,^” terminated the woman. 

“Wal, we’ll take your word fur it, Missus, but 
there’s an old saying that the proof of the puddin’ 
is in the eating of it,” grumbled Uncle Bob. 

“Oh, certainly,” replied the woman good-natur¬ 
edly, as she handed each of the visitors a slice of 
dried beef and a w T afer, just as the guide prudently 
called them away to follow him to another part 
of the building. 

“That put me in mind of Mahala Ann Wattles’s 
party,” said Aunt Becky, in disgust. “After she got 
back from Normal School she had some purty high 
idees, so she sent out bids to a five o’clock tea. I 
never was to one before, so I expected something 
big. I didn’t eat a mouthful of dinner, so I could 
enjoy a square meal when I got there. The house 
was so crowded I had to stand under the stairway 
with my head bent down till I had a stitch in my 
neck fur a w T eek. All in the world she give us to 
eat was a little sprig of lettuce, a cracker and a 
thimbleful of tea in a child’s cup and saucer. I was 
so hungry when I got home I put on a mess of spare- 
ribs and cabbage and eat like a starved plough 
horse. Some of the women was so mad at Mahala 
Ann Wattles they never went to see her afterwards; 
but I’m sort of furgiving and I don’t hold nothing 
agin her.” 

Much was seen by the Skowhegan tourists in this 
building that interested them and each process 
drew forth admiring exclamations and curious con¬ 
jectures. 

“It beats all how a piece of tin begins at one end 
M the factory and in a few minutes comes out the 


186 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


other end, made up into a can decorated and labeled 
and filled with pressed meat, ready for the market/’ 
said Aunt Becky. 

“I s’pose that’s what they mean when they speak 
about rushing the can,” suggested Uncle Bob inno¬ 
cently; but his wife took him literally and no rebuke 
was provoked. 

“Well, you can’t make me believe that Libby is a 
man any more than you kin make me think Armour 
is a coat of mail,” said she presently. “If she was 
a man, he couldn’t keep things so clean and every 
other feller you’d see would have a corn-cob pipe 
and dirty finger nails.” 

It was dark when they ceased their investigations, 
although they had seen but few of the vast estab¬ 
lishments and Uncle Bob was reluctant to tear 
himself away. 

The car that took them back to their hotel was so 
crowded, Aunt Becky and Ruth had to try the novel 
experience of holding on to straps, much to their 
discomfort. 

“I notice the men don’t give up their seats here 
to the women folks, unless they want to,” said Aunt 
Becky pettishly. “I feel fur all the world like one 
of them live stock, hanging to this pulley, and my 
arm will be yanked clean out of the socket before 
we git back.” 

“Wal, mebbe the fellers ain’t to blame. They’d 
have better manners if the women had. I jist seen 
an old man give his seat to a smart-dressed, young 
woman, and she never even looked at him or bowed 
an acknowledgement,” replied Uncle Bob, who was 
a loyal defender of his sex. “It seems like street 
car manners is gitting purty fuzzy in Chicago and 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


187 


that they correspond beautifully with the old rattle¬ 
trap cars themselves.” 

They were tired and dusty when they reached 
the hotel, and after resting an hour they ate dinner 
and repaired to their rooms to spend the evening 
in quietude. 

“What is the matter with you, Bob? You seem to 
be worrying over something,” said Aunt Becky, as 
they were getting ready to retire. 

“Becky, you know we’ve alius heard in the East 
that they hang a man in Chicago every morning 
before breakfast. I was jist thinking I’d like to git 
up to-morrow in time to see the show.” 

“My goodness sakes alive, Bob, if you want to 
see sich wicked cruelty, you’ll have to go alone!” 
cried Aunt Becky, horrified at her husband’s strange 
depravity: 

“I am here to see the sights, and I am goin’ to 
take it all in.” He then turned out the gas care¬ 
fully, and seeking his couch, slumbered peacefully 
until daybreak. 

His first act, when he awoke, was to shake his 
wife, who rubbed her eyes in a startled manner and 
mumbled sleepily: 

“What’s happened now? Did the biler bust 
ag’in?” 

“There’s no use talking, Becky, I’m going out to 
see the hangin’, and if you don’t want to go, you 
kin go to sleep ag’in,” he said, as he hastily donned 
his garments. 

“All right, if you’re so sot in your h^art, I don’t 
s’pose it will do any good fur me to object,” replied 
Aunt Becky submissively. “Like as not you’ll be 


188 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the one to git hung and you’d best stay in till after 
breakfast.” 

“Fm willing to risk it. I’m out fur fun and I’m 
going to see everything, no matter how wicked it 
is,” replied her spouse, hastily completing his toilet. 

He hurried out of the building and stopped at 

the nearest lamp post, 
imagining that he 
saw, in the early 
m o r n i n g mist, a 
corpse dangling from 
its summit. 

“Some hold-up has 
got his everlasting,” 
lie said aloud to him¬ 
self. “It serves him 
right; but I wonder if 
the man was really 
guilty.” 

He soon found him¬ 
self on South Clark 
street; but the queer 
sights had no charm 
for him. His mind 

“Melican man no likee chop-suey” ^00 bent on wit¬ 

nessing an execution. 
He stopped a moment, however, to look at a sign in 
a Chinese restaurant, which a native seemed very 
much interested in deciphering. 

“Melican man eat beef-steakee; no likee chop- 
suey,” said the Chinaman to him. 

“I’ll be dodgasted if I don’t think you’re right.” 




















189 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


“ Where did the bangin' take place this morning?” asked XJncle Boh. 

























































190 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Just then a policeman came along and Uncle Bob 
shouted: 

“Good day, Mr. Officer, where did the bangin’ take 
place this morning?” 

“Hanging!” exclaimed the big, square-shouldered 
man in the blue uniform. “What are you talking 
about?” 

“Don’t they hang a man every morning before 
breakfast in this here town?” 

“Oh, I see, it’s down by the next corner where you 
will find it. I think the hanging is to take place 
there today,” replied the policeman who, strange as 
it may seem, had received similar inquiries from 
rural strangers. 

Walking until he came to the next corner, and 
repeating the question to a second policeman, who 
seemed to comprehend the joke at once, Uncle Bob 
was directed to go another block, and he was 
assured that he would then see the object of his 
search. Chagrined and disappointed, he failed as 
before to find the dead man, but he purposed to die 
game, and made the round of all the corners, com¬ 
pleting the entire circuit between the river and the 
lake. 

His legs growing stiff and his face glowing and 
perspiring, he decided he was the victim of a huge 
practical joke, and returned to the hotel, where 
Aunt Becky and Ruth awaited him. 

“Gosh, it’s all a dodgasted lie,” he excitedly 
exclaimed, “Chicago ain’t so blamed wicked after 
all,” he mumbled, wiping his forehead and fanning 
himself with his hat. “There is plenty of people 
hanging around lamp-posts and the like to do 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


191 


people, but so fur as I kin learn, no one lias been 
liisted up since the great fire.” 

“Uncle, we have seen the Board of Trade and the 
Stock Yards and the great marts of commerce, and 
you musn’t think that Chicago is all wickedness. 
Like all cities, she has her good as well as her bad 
sides,” said Ruth, in time to head off Aunt Becky’s 
reproaches. “I hear that she will soon be the 
greatest educational center in the new world and, 
although money can’t buy the prestige of ancient 
history, it can secure the best instruction. I wish 
we could visit the Chicago University, for it will be 
an assistance to me, as I am going to teach this 
winter.” 

“Alright, Ruth, we’ll go out to see the big build¬ 
ing. From what I have heard I guess it’s even 
bigger than our State Normal School,” acquiesced 
her guardian, glad that the laugh which followed 
his unsuccessful quest of the hanging had subsided. 

In another hour they had taken the Illinois Cen¬ 
tral suburban train for Fifty-ninth street, wdiere 
they alighted and, following the directions of a 
fruit vender, soon reached the famous old “Mid¬ 
way,” where the gray buildings of the University 
and its vast, undulating campus filled them with 
respectful awe. 

“Will you please tell me which one of them big 
houses is the Chicago University?” asked Uncle Bob 
of a student wearing a slouch hat. 

“They are all included in the varsity,” replied the 
young man, shifting his books under his arm and 
looking over the broad, gray and green expanse 
with student pride. “You can walk till you have 
bunions and backache enough to last the rest of 


192 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


your days and then you can’t see half of it, and in 
five years’ time there will be twice as many build¬ 
ings. There is no limit to the possibilities of the 
Chicago University.” 

"I wish they had the different buildings pla¬ 
carded, so a feller could tell what he is looking at,” 
said Uncle Bob. 

“I am ‘cramming’ for an ‘exam,’ as I don’t want to 
‘flunk,’ but I’ll spend an hour showing you around 
a little,” said the student, catching step with Ruth 
and agreeably assuming the role of guide. “I’ve 
been here three years and am pretty well conver¬ 
sant with its history. In the first place the value 
of the buildings and grounds is estimated at 
$8,000,000 or more and it covers about one hundred 
acres. Had it not been for the generosity of our 
western citizens this place might still be a swamp, 
for the propagation of ague germs, instead of the 
site of a great institution, fostering and develop¬ 
ing science, philosophy, literature and a score of 
other useful things. John D. Rockefeller has do¬ 
nated considerably more than $10,000,000, and is 
the greatest benefa'ctor of the University.” 

“Did you hear that, Uncle? John D. Rockefeller, 
whom you criticised at Cleveland the other day, 
is mainly responsible for the growth of this insti¬ 
tution.” 

“Wal, I never heard that before. I knowed he 
was interested in Bible classes, but I didn’t s’pofse 
he cared much about education,” replied Uncle Bob. 
“Why didn’t he start a university at Cleveland, his 
own town, with that money? Charity alius begins 
at home, you know, and if I had his wealth I’d make 
Skowhegan the prize town of the state. I’d have 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


193 


town pumps and water-troughs on every corner, 
with statues of Abraham Lincoln and Benjamin 
Franklin on ’em, and a town clock on all the prin¬ 
cipal buildings.” 

“How providential that you don’t possess his 
wealth!” laughed Buth. “Such men as Rockefeller 
and Carnegie are too broad minded to confine their 
benevolent operations to one locality. They invest 
their money where it will do the public most good,” 
said Ruth, confident that she had scored a point. 

“Miss Helen Culver also donated $1,026,000,” 
continued the student, smiling at the futility of 
Uncle Bob’s argument. “Among the scores of 
larger contributors, who were anxious for the North¬ 
west to have an all-comprising University for the 
benefit of what will soon be the most densely popu¬ 
lated locality on the continent, were Mrs. Elizabeth 
Kelly, Martin A. Ryerson, Marshall Field, Mrs. 
Annie Hitchcock, A. C. Bartlett and Charles T. 
Yerkes, and large sums were received from the 
Reynolds and Ogden estates.” 

“It is certainly an ideal place,” said Ruth. “When 
the trees develop a little more and a few finishing 
touches have been added, she will make a more 
alluring Alma Mater. At present she awes me with 
her cold, severe stateliness.” 

“Yes, but Jackson and Washington Parks are 
sufficiently close for those who are fond of the 
romantic,” replied their guide. “I have heard people 
say that our institution lacks the noble grandeur 
and classic dignity of Northwestern University, lo¬ 
cated at Evanston, and the sylvan repose and other 
amenities of Ann Arbor; but in a few years more 
there will be nothing that Chicago University lacks 


194 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


to make it the peer of any college in the new world. 
There is nothing impossible in Chicago, you know, 
for she lives up to her motto, ‘I will.’ ” » 

“It’s beginning to blow a leetle ag’in,” chafed 
Uncle Bob, turning up his coat collar; but the 
young man continued to grow more and more enthu¬ 
siastic as he pointed out to them the scores of capa¬ 
cious buildings, made of gray Bedford rock, whose 
Gothic exteriors suggested unity and fraternity. 

“Uncle Bob, you may go back to the stock yards, 
since you said that was your element; but let me 
stay here as long as I live, for a city of learning and 
culture is more to my liking,” said Ruth, with a 
wistful little laugh. 

“Much credit is due to our president, William 
Rainey Harper, Ph. D., D.D., LL. D., who has worked 
indefatigably to make the institution what it is 
today,” said the student respectfully. 

“I should think the people would be terrible liable 
to pronounce his name wrong, with so many letters 
at the tail end of it,” said Aunt Becky. 

“Oh, they seldom use the full title,” replied the 
young man with si mischievous laugh. “Some of the 
boys here say ‘Prexie’ and a few of the wags call 
him ‘Harpy.’ ” 

“Wal, the pore feller must have his hands full 
and I don’t see fur the life of me how he kin hear 
all them classes without collapsing. I jist wish I 
could git him to take a leetle vaction on our old 
homestead farm, near Skowhegan, fur a few weeks, 
and give him a rest from arithmetic, algebray and 
spellin’ fur a while,” said Uncle Bob. 

“We also have a fine journal, called the Univer¬ 
sity Weekly, edited by and for students; crack foot- 


THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


195 


ball, baseball and tennis teams, an excellent band 
and a glee club that can’t be beat anywhere.” 

“It’s beginning to blow harder,” interrupted Uncle 
Bob, pulling his hat down over his ears. 

“Mahala Ann Wattles belonged to a tennis team 
when she was to the State Normal,” said Aunt 
Becky, glaring reproachfully at her consort. “She 
made a specialty of grammar and took lessons in 
tennis, painting and vocal’ singing.” 

“Yes, that schooling did Mahala more harm than 
good, too,” said Uncle Bob emphatically. “She 
couldn’t even make a bed when she got home, ’cause 
her back was weak, yet she could polky to beat a 
year! in’ calf. Her dad said once, he hoped she 
would git better so she could help him fence up the 
clover field, and she got boiling mad. Seems like 
youngsters won’t put their knowledge into practice 
nowadays. She could fence all day long at school 
and never mind it at all, but she couldn’t help her 
pore old dad.” 

“I’ve walked till I’m well-nigh spavined. Buth, 
you liain’t, got a bit of mercy on us old critters,” 
complained Aunt Becky. “It would take a week to 
see everything, and that young boy had better go 
back to iiis studies or he might git a lickin’.” 

“Fortunately, they don’t allow corporal punish¬ 
ment in our school,” said the -young man laughing 
heartily. 

“I reckon it wouldn’t hurt tjiem if they had 
a real, old fashioned, down-east, thrashing occasion¬ 
ally, such as Bob and I used to get when we were 
youngsters.” 

“Uncle, we certainly must go back,” said Ruth 
blushing charmingly. “We will miss the train for 


196 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


St. Louis, if we spend much more time here. This 
young man has certainly been very kind to us and 
we appreciate it.” 

Uncle Bob, who had grown accustomed to giving 
tips, automatically thrust his hand into his pocket 
and produced a half dollar, which he offered the 



The student declined to accept fifty cents from Uncle Boh. 


guide; but the .young man flushed painfully and 
refused the money, so that the old man substituted 
the usual invitation for him to visit them at Skow- 
hegan. 

After returning to the hotel where they had lunch, 
they set out for the depot with glad faces, eager to 













THE CITY OF THE WINDS 


191 


take the train for the city that would attract the 
attention of the whole world, at least for the next 
seven months. 

They were escorted to their coach by a colored 
porter, where they found that not a solitary bundle 
had been pilfered in the wicked city they had so 
much dreaded above all others. As the train pulled 
out, Uncle Bob joyously shouted: 

“Hurrah fur the big fair now! Hurrah fur St. 
Louis in old Missouri, and the great congress of 
nations!” 



Hurrah Jor the Big Fair! 








The Beautiful Ivory 
City. 

FTER being assured that Aunt 
1 Becky and Ruth were comfortable, 
Uncle Bob sought the smoking-car, which was al¬ 
most filled. He selected a seat by a smooth-faced, 
beneficent-looking man, whose manner suggested 
that he might be drawn into an argument, and pres¬ 
ently he paved the way with the remark: 

“Chicago is a wonderful city, ain’t it?” 

“Quite remarkable,” replied the stranger. 
“There’s nothing like it in the country; but it always 
gives me the headache and makes me lonesome. 
Truly the poet was right when he said that a great 
city was a great solitude.” 

“It’s a great repository for all the money, too,” 
persisted Uncle Bob. “The poor farmer ain’t got a 
bit of show any more and some day he’ll be crowded 
into a reservation, jist like the Indians were. He’s 
gitting poorer all the time and Wall street and the 
Trusts are rolling and swimming in wealth.” 

“When they cripple the farmer so that he will not 
be able to continue his great work, then the country 
will crumble like a piece of loaf sugar in a cup of 
hot coffee,” said the stranger, looking somewhat 
surprised. “By close observation I have noted that 

198 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


199 


the thrifty farmers who understand their business 
are getting richer every minute, and some day 
people will flock to the farm just as they now do to 
the city, for there is gold in the soil. The American 
farmer is the very life blood of the country ana upon 
his prosperity depends the welfare of the nation.” 



“ Chicago is a wonderful city , ain't it?" said Uncle Bob. 


“You couldn’t make any of them stuck-up city 
fellers believe that,” said Uncle Bob, swelling with 
pride, when he realized that he, too, was a factor 
in the agricultural field. 

“If they study the industrial phases of the 


























200 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


country and read the daily papers, they will see 
how erroneous are their impressions and how un¬ 
grounded are their prejudices/’ continued the man. 
“The farmer who wants and complains of his condi¬ 
tion, is one who is behind the times in the science of 
his vocation—one who does not read, experiment 
and keep abreast of the day. The agricultural out¬ 
look is Utopian compared to any other. Why, the 
income from the leading monopolies is a drop in a 
tobacco patch compared with what the farmers 
bring in every year. This is the presidential year 
and estimates made at this time are hardly repre¬ 
sentative; by close investigation I found that a year 
or so ago our farm exports amounted to more than 
$900,000,000—just think of it! No wonder that the 
great states west of the Missouri have paid off 
nearly all mortgages placed upon their farms by 
eastern banking concerns, and are now independent 
and prosperous.” 

“Wal, I never noticed much prosperity around 
Skowhegan,” said Uncle Bob, querulously. “Most 
of the farmers complain of hard times.” 

“Oh, it’s natural for some farmers to complain,” 
impatiently replied the orator. “If they would ex¬ 
ercise the same judgment and business sagacity 
that the ordinary merchant uses, they would be 
far better off. I venture to say, if you will take 
the pains to look into the matter when you go back, 
you will see that nine-tenths of the complaining 
farmers in your neighborhood have allowed their 
soil to become impoverished by not giving it the 
proper nourishment in the way of fertilizers. A 
few of our western farmers will wake up some day 
to find that the same conditions exist out here. 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 201 



Settling the fate of the nation in the rural districts. 





















































































202 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


The farmer who understands his soil, like the phy¬ 
sician does the human body he diagnoses, will 
nearly always be successful. Complaining farmers 
are the ones who lack judgment and thrift; they 
leave their machinery out in the rain to rust and 
rot, instead of giving it the proper housing in the 
barn or shed; they permit their fences to decay and 
ditches to get out of order, and sit and complain 
and talk politics when they should be at work; 
they are the old-time farmers, and will continue 
to retrograde until they awaken to the fact that 
primitive farming belongs to the past, and to suc¬ 
ceed they must transform themselves into scientific, 
twentieth-century farmers. With the advancement 
of the Department of Agriculture, staples are being 
raised in this country now that were formerly con¬ 
fined to other zones. The Federal Government 
passed a law several months ago to form a system 
of irrigation covering thirteen western states. By 
this process, land which was considered worthless 
will be made arable, and our Great American Des¬ 
ert will some day bloom like a tropical garden and 
our agriculturists will reap fortunes untold. They 
have not yet reached the heyday of their highest 
achievements, but the horizon is beginning to glow 
in the sunlight of dawn. The time is coming when 
to be a farmer will be an honor, and you and I may 
live to see it.” 

“I wish I could,” said Uncle Bob, fervently, his 
complacency momentarily increasing. “I believe if 
I was young I’d take Horace Greeley’s advice and 
go West, and start out on a big scale.” 

“Our annual wheat crop reaches over 600,000,000 
bushels a year, worth nearly $400,000,000, and the 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


203 


[value of all the gold and silver in the United States 
and all the gold mined in the world did not equal it 
by $100,000,000 in 1902. The corn crop is more than 
twice as large as the wheat crop, and brings in an¬ 
nually a billion dollars. Then we have our cotton 
and our oats and our sugar beets, and scores of 
other staples, including new ones that are being 
added annually, so that the income can hardly be 
estimated. It is really too fabulous to look well in 
figures.” 

“My friend, your arguments make my blood 
tingle,” said Uncle Bob. 

“I am an Illinois farmer with 1,200 acres of land, 
which, ten years ago could not have been sold for 
more than forty dollars an acre, but it is now worth 
from one to one hundred and thirty-five dollars an 
acre, and Urn independent of everything and every¬ 
body,” continued the speaker, puffing his pipe with 
happy satisfaction. Our home contains a big li¬ 
brary and a music room, and my large family of 
boys and girls earn their bread by honest toil and 
enjoy the best things of life at the same time. I 
consider that I am as well informed as the average 
city man, even though I do not enjoy so many ex¬ 
travagant luxuries and English grand operas. I 
have made my work as much of a science as the 
chemist who delves sixteen hours a day in the lab¬ 
oratory to ascertain the composition of substances.” 

“That’s good,” interpolated Uncle Bob. 

“You down-east Yankees don’t realize what a 
great change has taken place in the life of the 
farmer during the past ten years. Just think of it!” 

“Splendid,” said Uncle Bob; “go ahead/" 

“I can sit in my library and feel the pulse of 


204 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the market any hour by telephone. I have a thou 
sand advantages my father never had. And say, 
old man, don’t ever get it into your head that our 
cities are absorbing all our brains and capital, for 
they only have a small part of them and the farmers 
are responsible for the prosperity of the city and the 
nation as a unit.” 

“Wonderful!” said Uncle Bob, who could hold in 
no longer. “I like to hear you talk. I’m mighty 
glad to know you are a farmer. Shake on it. I’m 
one myself, living near Skowhegan, Maine, and I’m 
proud of it instead of being ashamed. Like as not 
them city fellers would be jist as green as I am in 
the city if they came out to the country, and I 
s’pose we’d make jist as much fun of ’em. Your 
talk done me a pile of good and I’m glad I met one 
of them up-to-date, hale, optimistic men who lives 
right close to Nature’s heart and don’t know nothing 
about fine airs and false fronts.” 

“I had no idea you was a farmer,” said the other 
in evident surprise. “I have studied Mother Nature 
for years, but Human Nature is puzzling to me, and 
I thought you might be a city man.” 

“For the land sake!” laughed Uncle Bob. “You’re 
the fust man in history that ever took me fur a city 
chap.” 

“All city fellers don’t wear Raglan coats and pat¬ 
ent leather boots. Some of them are very queer 
dressers,” replied the farmer. “I judged from the 
style of your hat that you might be from Philadel¬ 
phia.” 

“Wal, that’s a good one,” said Uncle Bob, still 
laughing. “If you could have seen Becky’s hat 
you’d have knowed the exact latitude and longitude 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


205 


we live in. I’ve traveled so extensively lately that 
it’s probable that I am getting a sort of a city air 
about me.” 

“I’m very glad that I met you, sir,” said the 
Illinois farmer, submitting gracefully to Uncle 
Bob’s ferocious handshake. 

“I am on the shady side of life, but if our Tom, 
who left home many years ago to grow up with the 
West, was only living, me and Becky and "Ruth 
would be tempted to pull up stakes and come to this 
great broad western land of prosperity and plenty,” 
he said. 

“You can have just as great success and happi¬ 
ness in the East if you know how to go about it,” 
said the farmer, cheerily. 

“Wal, you come to Skowhegan and visit us, and 
I’ll show you a model farm—providin’ you don’t 
come till I get a chance to—to—what do you call 
it?—diagnose my soil.” 

“Analyze, you mean; find out the chemical com¬ 
position of the soil,” explained the stranger. 

Shaking hands again, fired with new ambition and 
encouraged with the prospects for the future, Uncle 
Bob returned to Aunt Becky and Ruth. 

They reached St. Louis at 7 A. M. and filed into a 
depot, the magnitude and elegance of which ex¬ 
celled anything in that line they had ever seen. 

“Wal, I see we’re going to be surprised in St. 
Louis, too,” said Uncle Bob. “This place looks a 
good deal like Chicago.” 

“It’s a southern town, though,” said Ruth, with 
pride. 

“Yes, it’s a southern town made up of northern 
people, but I guess it’s a hummer, too, and jist at 


206 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


this time full of hold-ups and confidence men, so 
cleave to your packages, Becky, and smite the fust 
feller dumb with your umberell that looks at you 
suspicious.” 

They were besieged by a long reception line of 



Out Hotel is?” asked Uncle Bob, to one of unmis¬ 
takable Hibernian origin. 

“Faith, sor, I never heard of sich a hotel,” was the 
ready response. 





















THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


207 


“The idee of you, a liver in St. Louis, not knowing 
where the Inside Out is,” rebuked Uncle Bob. 

“You might git in and I’ll hunt the place fur ye, 
sor.” 

“Can’t we walk there?” 

“Shure not; it’s minny moiles and the town is 
full of pickpockets and anarchists, sor.” 

“How much do you charge to ride in that covered 
rattle-trap?” 

“Rates have gone up now, sor, and I’m gitting 
three dollars an hour.” 

“That’s perfectly outrageous!” piped Aunt Becky. 

“Wal, we’ve got to git there and I don’t s’pose it’ll 
take him more than a half hour if he drives fast,” 
replied Uncle Bob. “We ort to drive up to the 
Inside Out rather stylish anyway. Pile in and let’s 
start at once. Now, Mister Driver, you keep on 
going till you find that Inside Out Hotel and be 
spry about it.” 

“It seemed to the tired travelers an interminable 
ride, and in fact it was three hours before they 
stopped. Finally they became aware that they were 
traveling among palaces of princely splendor, which 
even their most aesthetic flights of imagination had 
never reached. 

“I’ll be tarred and feathered if I ever seen sich a 
magnificent city in my born days. The people in 
St. Louis must have wings and gold crowns in order 
to correspond with their architecture,” declared the 
old man. 

“Say, Bob Springer, didn’t you say t’other day 
that the hotel was called the Outside Inn?” asked 
Aunt Becky, sleepily. 

“Why, of course I did! Here the fool’s hunting 


208 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


around fur the Inside Out and there ain’t no sich 
place. Hey, Mister! Mister! open up this infernal 
collection box!” 

The cab stopped and the Irish driver craned his 
neck to hear Uncle Bob’s explanations. 

“I made a mistake, Mister. It’s the Outside Inn 
I want. Do you know where that is?” 



Cab driver takes advantage of the opportunity —“ If you 
want to go any further , you will have to 
pay $15.00 or walk.” 


“Niver heard of it, sor; but I’ll kape on makin’ 
inquiries around the fair grounds till I find it.” 

“It’s a wonder you couldn’t remember that sooner, 
Becky” said Uncle Bob, as he leaned back again 















THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


209 


in his easy seat. “You’re generally nimble enough 
at picking me up when I make mistakes.” 

They had ridden two hours longer, when the cab¬ 
man halted and shouted down to the anxious down- 
eastern passengers. 

“Sliure, I was jist thinkin’ that p’raps ye mint 
the Inside Inn instid of the Inside Out or the Out¬ 
side Inn.” 

“Of course that’s the place, you infernal, pop-eyed 
blockhead! Dod-gast your torpid liver anyway!” 
cried Uncle Bob, in a towering rage. 

“I know right where it is, yer honor, but divil a 
sthep further will I take ye without the coin. I 
ain’t goin’ to be chated out of me pay and I’ve 
worked sthiddy fur five hours, sor. It’s six moiles 
to the place and ye’ll pay me the fifteen dollars in 
advance or ye’ll have to git out here and run the 
risk of being held up, and I’ll complain to the Union 
and they’ll make it warrum fur ye.” 

The altercation that followed would be unsuitable 
for publication, but Uncle Bob, in spite of Aunt 
Becky’s expostulations, paid the fifteen dollars and 
in less than five minutes they stopped before the 
Inside Inn. Another exchange of abusive epithets 
followed between Uncle Bob and the cabman, whose 
brilliancy of repartee far exceeded his quickness of 
comprehension. 

They entered the hotel and Uncle Bob approached 
the clerk, saying politely: 

“Howdy-do, sir. I am Uncle Bob Springer, and 
this is my wife, Aunt Becky Springer, and our 
adopted daughter, Ruth Burton, of Skowhegan. 
We’ve come to stay several weeks at your tavern.” 


210 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Did you send in your application?” asked the 
clerk, somewhat amused. 

“No, we thought we’d jist come in and surprise 
you, so you wouldn’t go to any bother. All we want 
is a nice clean room that hain’t got any bed-bugs or 
cock-roaches, and plenty to eat.” 

“European or American plan?” 

“American, of course. Do I look like one of them 
furreigners?” 

“Our rates vary according to location. Would you 
like a bath?” 

“That ain’t none of your business, if you please. 
There ain’t any cleaner people living than we be.” 

“Shall I book you for a room at about three 
dollars apiece per day?” 

“Why, great guns, Mister, I got a special bid from 
the manager of this tavern, to come and bring my 
friends, and it ain’t to cost us a cent! Do you 
s’pose I’m going to pay, and do you know who I be?” 

“Let me see the invitation,” requested the clerk. 

Uncle Bob produced the little red pamphlet and 
handed it to him with a look of triumph, saying: 

“Mebbe you think I never got an invite before 
and don’t know one when I see it. Read fur your¬ 
self.” 

“Why, my dear sir, this is only a circular, stating 
our terms and plans for accommodation; we sent 
out thousands of them,” said the clerk, giggling out¬ 
right. “You surely didn’t expect to be lodged and 
fed here free of charge just because you received a 
circular!” 

“Wal, I’ll be dod-gasted if I ever seen so many 
fake concerns in my life. They’re stretched clean 
across the continent from New York to the Golden 



“ Great Guns , mister ! I’ve got an invitation to stay at this 
here tavern as long as I want without paying 
a dod-gasted cent!” 






























































































































212 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Gate beyond,” cried Uncle Bob, too surprised to be 
really indignant. “If I had the money I’d begin 
suit ag’in you, as sure as my name is Bob Springer.” 

The clerk turned away to hide his amusement, 
while Uncle Bob, who had banked from the start 
upon the free hospitality of the Inside Inn, began 
to make lightning mental calculations. He turned 



Uncle Bob writes a letter to Lige Knaggs for more money. 


his back upon his wife and ward and made a hastv 
inventory of his pocket-book, to find that he had 
less than $100 left—not enough to get them back 
home. For a moment he was staggered, but his 
ready philosophy helped him to frame an immediate 
course of action, and he decided to seek a cheaper 
boarding-house and write to Lige Knaggs, to send 
him an extra hundred or two. 






















THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


213 


“We’ll not stay here, Becky,” said the disap¬ 
pointed old man. “We can’t afford to do it if we 
want to see the Fair in proper manner. Let’s, go out 
and inquire the way up town and git in a more rea¬ 
sonable tavern. I never seen any institution yet 
that was satisfactory when it was half European 
and half American—not even matrimony.” 

Some one directed them to a cheap boarding-house 
on Humphrey Street and told them what car to 
take to get there. In another, half hour they found 
the very humble quarters and by that time they 
were all tired and discouraged. Mrs. Blumen- 
schmidt, the landlady, a corpulent, oily-skinned 
woman with a slight moustache, but very courteous 
and considerate, showed them to their rooms, and 
after a rather oppressive meal with a number of 
queer, uncongenial people, they retired to their 
rooms, where Uncle Bob wrote the following letter 
to Lige Knaggs before getting ready for bed: 

Saint Louie, June —, 1904. 

dear friend, Elijah- - Humphrey street, 

i take my pen in hand to wright you a few lines, we air all 
well but tired and dun up and hope you air the same, i hope 
you aint lost any more chickens with the gaps, i cant begin to 
tell you all the sites we seen fur if i did you wood say i was 
lying, i had my eyes opened so many' times by wonderful rev- 
vilations they are gitting as set and stairing as old widder 
Slants, we miss you soarly and often speak of you. Ruth run 
across a pictur the other day in a paper, i spose it was a funny 
story of some kind and the name of it was Before and after 
Taking, she said the fust one looked like you and the other 
one like Jessie James so you can appresheate the contrast and 
swell up and bust with the Big head if you want to. i have 
bin as equanomical as i could under the sarcumstances but i am 
running a little short of money and if you kin loan me another 
200 i will pay you back when i have the Oppurtoonity and that 
will be when i gather in my crop of pertaters and chickens and 
other garden truck, please send it by return male as a feller 
cant git trusted for a dodgasted sent in this town out here, i 
could tell you of the good times i have had but your snoopy sis- 



214 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


ter Liddy might see it and tatle to Becky and as my life inshur- 
ance has run out it might be embearising all around and so 
when i get back ile tell you all about it in our club room at 
Hi Pratts barn, i wish u could arrainge to be with us and help 
us carry our traps. Becky set on the selluloyd box you give 
Ruth and spiled its shape and Ruth through it away, hoping to 
here from you to once i will now wind up my letter with re¬ 
gards to all from all, yours fraternally, 

Uncle Bob Springer. 

p. s. Rover was Kidnaped in New York, dont tell it around 
as it might cause exsitement, peeple in little towns alius make 
Volkanos out of aunt Hills when they have the chanst. 

P. S. No. 2. I want ter tell you, Lige, that a fellow’s got to 
travel if he wants to get his wits sharpened. I have heard some 
of the most dodgasted yarns since I left. Just wait till I get 
back and we meet at Hi Pratt’s barn! Here’s one a fellow just 
told me- 

Two Irishfnen were discussing the Bible; Noah and the flood 
seemed to be the subject that interested them the most. 

‘Now,’ said Pat, ‘I hear them say that Noah took two of every 
kind into the big boat, but I never heard of him taking in the 
Irish.’ 

‘Oh, well,’ replied Mike, ‘The Irish at that time were very 
rich and had private boats of their own.’ 

The following morning as Uncle Bob was eating 
his soft-boiled eggs, he paused and broke forth 
earnestly: 

“Fd like to see a leetle of this town of Saint Louis. 
The streets run zig-zag like they do in Boston and 
I’m afeard we wouldn’t make much headway alone.” 

“St. Louis, like Detroit, was founded by the 
French,” said a real estate man named Watson, 
who sat at the same table. 

“That accounts fur it,” said Uncle Bob churlishly. 
“I never seen a town the French had anything to do 
with that was straight.” 

“The cities that have the irregular streets are 
always the most beautiful,” replied Watson. “They 
afford so many places for pretty little parks and 
picturesque nooks. St. Louis has very few streets, 
Mr. Springer; they are nearly all avenues.” 



THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


215 


“I s’pose the French had something to do with 
that, too,” said Uncle Bob. 

“Perhaps,” said the real estate man with a broad 
smile. “Although much of the old aristocracy is of 
French descent here, there are less than 2,000 
Frenchmen in this great city of 650,000 inhabitants 
and one-fourth of that number were Canadian born. 
The greater per cent, of its population are natives 
of this country and in many respects it is a typical 
American city. It is bound to become the great 
financial and business center of the New World on 
account of its favorable location and its solid foun¬ 
dation. Just think of a city in the Southwest with 
annual bank clearings reaching three billion dol¬ 
lars! St. Louis exports immense quantities of 
shoes, dry goods, groceries, tobacco, cigars and beer. 
The latter commodity alone brings into the city 
from fifteen to twenty million dollars a year.” 

“It blow T s a leetle in St. Louis, too, don’t it? 
May be it is another one of them cyclones on the 
w T ay,” snickered Uncle Bob. 

“Why! I don’t think it adds any to the credit of 
St. Louis to crow over the amount of beer guzzled 
every year,” said Aunt Becky, fiercely. 

“There are many things the city can crow over, 
however,” said Watson with calm assurance. “She 
has a water supply, lighting system, police depart¬ 
ment and sewer arrangement second to none in the 
world; has fifty-four colleges, seminaries and uni¬ 
versities, sixty-one asylums and orphans’ homes, 
forty-six monasteries and convents, ninety-two pub¬ 
lic schools, one hundred and twenty social and busi¬ 
ness clubs, and almost as many sporting, pleasure 
and political clubs, and nearly three hundred 
churches, so you can see that St. Louis has other 


216 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


points to recommend her besides her great beer 
industry, Mrs. Springer.” 

“You seem to be purty well posted,” said Uncle 
Bob, rather skeptically. 

“Yes, you will find that the St. Louis people have 
everything on their tongues’ ends, for they have 
pledged themselves to entertain their guests in 
regal manner. At other great fairs held in this 
country there was considerable complaint about the 
citizens not knowing where to direct strangers. St. 
Louis is large enough to accommodate all the vis¬ 
itors and there will be no stampeding and over¬ 
crowding and sleeping out on the sidewalks as 
some of the larger cities have predicted.” 

“Please tell us about the earlier history of St. 
Louis. I have run across no one that knows any¬ 
thing about it,” said Ruth. “I asked Mrs. Blumen- 
sckmidt, who has always lived here, and she said 
the town was founded by a saint named Louis, who 
drowned himself in the Mississippi River because 
an Indian girl named Hiawatha refused to marry 
him.” 

“I am afraid Mrs. Blumenschmidt’s history is 
purely the gleaning of a very fertile imagination,” 
said Watson, laughing heartily. “It was such spec¬ 
ulative people who circulated the well-established 
theory that Los Angeles means ‘Home of the An¬ 
gels.’ St. Louis was named in honor of the patron 
saint of Louis the Fifteenth of France, (Louis 
Ninth). The settlement was due to the shrewdness 
of Pierre de Laclede. In 1762 a New Orleans busi¬ 
ness firm of which Pierre was one of the younger 
members, received from the Governor General of 
Louisiana a grant giving them exclusive control of 
the fur trade with the Missouri and other tribes of 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


217 


Indians along the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers. 
Pierre and his voyageurs made a perilous expedition 
to select a point near the mouth of the Missouri 
River for a depot for merchandise, and selected this 
site, which he named in honor of Louis the Fif¬ 
teenth. On St. Valentine’s Day, 1764, preparations 
were made to build shanties and on the following 
day the first trees were felled and the first pulsation 
of the building enterprise was felt. Prior to that 
time De Soto, Marquette and La Salle passed 
through this region, but left no permanent land¬ 
marks. It was Laclede who founded St. Louis.” 

“And did they have turrible times with them 
heathenish Indians, too?” asked Uncle Bob, who 
thirsted for tragedy. 

“Yes, in 1780, on the day of the feast of Corpus 
Christi, the town was attacked by Indians and many 
lives were taken,” replied the man whose name was 
Watson. “And in 1849 the city had a disastrous 
conflagration, caused by the sparks from the 
steamer White Cloud setting fire to the river shan¬ 
ties, spreading rapidly towards the heart of the 
city, destroying nearly seven million dollars worth 
of property.” 

“Truly out of much adversity springeth great 
things,” quoted Aunt Becky. 

“St. Louis and New Orleans are the only two 
American cities which felt both the French and 
Spanish yokes before yielding to the Constitution 
of the United States,” said the Missourian, folding 
his napkin. “That portion of Louisiana west of 
the Mississippi had been ceded to Spain by Louis 
the Fifteenth before the little French colony knew 
it. In 1770 a small body of Spanish troops under 
Don Pedro Piernas, the new governor, took posses- 


218 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


sion of the town of St. Louis. In 1800 the Territory 
of Louisiana was ceded by Spain to France, and 
the Jefferson purchase of the territory occurred a 
century ago, formal possession being granted the 



and Time Saver. 

more species of plants than 


United States govern¬ 
ment, represented by 
Capt. Amos Stoddard, 
March 10, 1804.” 

“Everyone should 
know the early history 
of so important a city 
as St. Louis, and we 
are greatly obliged to 
you, sir,” said Ruth, 
smiling sweetly. 

They rose from the 
table and proceeded 
for the World’s Fair 
grounds, stopping as 
directed at the points 
of greatest interest 
to St. Louis visitors; 
Tower Grove Park, a 
bower of bloom and 
beauty in the summer 
time, and the Missouri 
Botannical Garden, 
bequeathed by Henry 
Shaw to the city, 
which next to the cele¬ 
brated Kews Garden 
in England contains 
any other place of the 























THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


219 


kind in the world. They then walked to the King’s- 
Highway Boulevard and finally came to Forest 
Park, with its stately trees and well-kept swards 
and its ‘zoo’ containing a great variety of animals, 
where they rested for a few minutes to partake of 
the lunch which Mrs. Blumenschmidt had prepared 
for them. 

It was high noon when they paid their admission, 
bought a Standard Pocket Guide and Time Saver 
and passed through one of the great north gates of 
the World’s Fair grounds. Before them lay the 
vast new city, dazzling white in the sunlight of 
day, but steeped in limpid gold when illumined by 
thousands of electric lights at night. 

For a moment they all three stood rapt in silent 
admiration, Uncle Bob being the first to recover the 
use of his tongue. 

“All our trouble and worry in gitting here, Becky, 
is forgot, fur it’s sartinly worth it,” he said in 
ecstasy. “It’s jist like I alius imagined the New 
Jerusalem looked.” 

“Where in the world shall we go first? I feel as 
green as a college gal in a kitchen,” said Aunt 
Becky, looking vacantly at the great buildings, yet 
seeming to see nothing. 

“Let’s go over where those beautiful streams are 
sparkling and spraying and let me live over again 
the dreams of my childhood when I used to read 
fairy tales!” cried Ruth, never stopping until 
she reached a knoll overlooking the beautiful Cas¬ 
cade Gardens, where art and nature bad been 
blended into a masterpiece of incomparable beauty 
by the genius of man. At the crest of the hill, which 
gradually sloped to the edge of the water, was 


220 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Festival Hall, covering two acres, with a dome 
greater than all others in the world, including St. 
Peter’s at Rome. This building was the nucleus 
of a semi-circular colonnade of Ionic pillars, be 
tween which were statues representing the four¬ 
teen states and territories included in the Louisiana 
Purchase. At both ends of the colonnade were 
pavilions and from their interiors cascades of 
sparkling water dashed down to the basin below, 
while a larger stream poured from the Festival 
Hall. 

“Jist look at the fandangled bricky-brac on them 
buildings and along them cataracts,” said Uncle 
Bob, in wonderment. “There in the center is 
a woman on a cannon driving two bears, and 
a couple of gals with bosses’ bodies seem to be 
cavorting around trying to trample down the naked 
babies wrastling with fishes. And there are a hull 
lot of other women carrying vases and alarm clocks 
and things and some youngsters playing flutes and 
eating pie.” 

“It’s a beautiful work of art,” said Ruth. “It is 
called ‘The Triumph of Music and Art’ and was 
done by the sculptor Martiny.” 

“Wal, Mr. Marteeny must have the imagination 
of a newspaper reporter,” said the old man. “It 
seems to me that Music and Art could triumph with¬ 
out riding down human beings and raising sich a 
hullabaloo as that. Mebbe it’s what some folks 
call classical music, so it ain’t much wonder I can’t 
understand it. I s’pose that slim youngster with 
nothing on but a torn sash represents Ragtime.” 

“Well, I’d think a heap more of that statue of 
Music if she had on a few more clothes, even if it 


THE BE A L TIFXJL IVORY CITY 


221 


was only a pair of toe slippers,” said Aunt Becky. 
“A woman couldn’t be very much that would ride 
out in public on a cannon drawn by bears or coyotes 
or whatever they are, dressed in sich slouchy fash¬ 
ion.” 

“It will take a week to cover the grounds alone,” 
remarked Ruth, rather puzzled. “There are 1,240 
acres, nearly twice as much as the Columbian Ex¬ 
position at Chicago. Perhaps we’d better spend the 
rest of the day getting general ideas without visit¬ 
ing any of the buildings.” 

For hours they strolled through the enchanted 
green and white pleasure grounds, teeming with a 
thousand charms unknown to Babylon’s famous gar¬ 
dens. They admired all the imposing palaces, which 
conveyed the impression of solidarity, despite the 
diversity of their endless colonnades of Ionic, Doric 
and Corinthian pillars, their domes, towers and 
minarets, and their statuary symbolizing every ac¬ 
tive force in the trend of civilization. 

Here they paused to rest beneath the branches of 
a sturdy tree; there they watched the numerous 
schools of the finny tribe from the speckled trout 
to the radiant goldfish, specimens from the waters 
of many different lands, sporting and playing, scin¬ 
tillating in a rainbow of marvelous tints, blended 
by Nature into a harmonious combination of colors. 

“Oh, the wonderful works of Nature!” exclaimed 
Ruth. 

They watched the tinseled spray from some grace¬ 
ful fountain leaping into the air, and then seeking 
oblivion in the cool marble basin below. 

The happy party then walked in the direction of 
the lofty and handsome terrace. They thoroughly 


222 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


enjoyed and admired the scene before them beyond 
their powers of expression. The picture appealed 
to them with its richness of color, its unique blend¬ 
ing of classic and modern architecture, its artistic 
entablatures and friezes, its countless shafts 
crowned with electric light globes, its parterres and 
esplanades, its bow T ers of flowers and foliage, and 
waving triumphantly over all the representative 
flags and pennants of all nations—certainly a sym¬ 
bol of peace and good will toward men. 

“Uncle, there is the Palace of Manufactures and 
it covers fourteen acres,” said Ruth, after referring 
to the Pocket Guide again. 

“Gee whizz! that seems almost impossible,” re¬ 
plied the old man. “I liain’t got a wheat field that 
big. It must be something like the White House.” 

“And that Palace of Liberal Arts, which is after 
the French Renaissance style of architecture has a 
front 750 feet long.” 

“I thought some Frenchmen must have built 
that,” said Uncle Bob, coldly. “It must have tuk 
him quite a spell to do it. I’d hate to live in a house 
with so many gew-gaws fur I’d alius be knocking a 
knob off or git my feet caught in something all the 
time. I like that big pink building we was looking 
at awhile ago.” 

“That was the Administration Building and it is 
truly magnificent,” replied the girl, making a mem¬ 
orandum in her Guide and Time Saver. “Uncle, that 
Palace of Art on the plateau there cost over a mil¬ 
lion dollars. Isn’t it gorgeous?” 

“What’s that house with the big steeple on?” 
asked Aunt Becky. 

“It’s the Palace of Machinery, with 200,000 square 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVOBY CITY 


223 


feet; the ornate building across the way is the Pal¬ 
ace of Electricity, the mysterious force that in the 
past few years has revolutionized the world.” 

“I might have knew it wasn’t a church,” whined 
Aunt Becky, whom violent exertion had made rather 
petulant. “I hain’t seen a church since we left 
Skowhegan and I hain’t seen a person in any hotel 
bow his head and ask a blessing on his food. I ex¬ 
pect when they tip the waiter they think that is all 
that’s necessary. We’re gitting to be reg’lar heath¬ 
ens .and if Bob went to church he wouldn’t know 
enough to take off his hat till the preacher invited 
him to. Funny, how r habit gits hold of some people.” 

“That building, representing Education—the 
fountain of knowledge that nourishes and develops 
the human soul—attracts me,” said Ruth, ignoring 
Aunt Becky’s sarcasm. “Isn’t it beautiful, all sur¬ 
rounded by water and so lavishly decorated? I 
want to spend considerable time in there. That big 
structure with the tall obelisks is the Palace of 
Mines and Metallurgy, which reveals the hidden 
secrets of the earth; precious gems, sparkling 
quartz; gold, silver and other metals. See, some 
one has stopped a boat at the foot of its steps and 
is taking on passengers.” 

“Why do they set houses right out in the water 
that way,” said Aunt Becky. “It reminds one of an 
Ohio River flood. What on earth did they want to 
build ’em right out in them puddles fur? I never 
seen sich poor management. Mebbe that’s a French 
idee, too, Bob.” 

“No, it ain’t, fur the French ain’t so overly fond 
of water as all that,” laughed Uncle Bob. 

“That immense building is the Palace of Agricul- 


224 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


ture, the symbol of the best results of Nature’s fer¬ 
tile fields, and typical of the wonderful genius of 
man,” explained Ruth, pointing to the stately struc¬ 
ture which covers eighteen acres. “It enjoys the dis¬ 
tinction of being the largest building ever erected 
for a single exhibit.” 

“Cracky, but it’s a beauty,” interpolated Uncle 
Bob, his face glowing with pleasure. “Its decora¬ 
tions of colored fruits and flowers makes a feller’s 
mouth water to go back to the farm. I bet it’ll be 
so blooming full of farmers all the time you can’t 
git ’em out with boss pistols when they git inter¬ 
ested.” 

After viewing the exterior of the Palace of Trans¬ 
portation, containing strange and marvelous ma¬ 
chines, representing power and speed, they made a 
hasty tour of the various buildings, commenting 
freely upon the treatment of the various types of 
architecture, and eulogizing to their heart’s content. 

“I’m glad to see that Maine has good-looking 
headquarters,” declared Uncle Bob, with enthusi¬ 
asm. “What a big city of state buildings we have 
and what a fine sprinkling of stars Old Glory has 
anyway! All this is tiresome to the feet, but it’s 
ennobling and uplifting to the mind and heart. 
After seeing this St. Louis Fair, I’ll alius feel like 
laughing every time I attend another fair at Skow- 
hegan. I used to think it put up a brilliant effort, 
but la me! you could stick the hull business in one 
of them leetle buildings out there you call pavilions 
and have enough room left fur all the people that 
attend ’em.” 

They were tired and hungry when they returned 
to their humble boarding-house on Humphrey 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


225 


Street, where immediately after dinner Ruth be¬ 
came very busy with her pencil and Pocket Time 
Saver, while the old people talked over the grand 
sights they had seen that day, occasionally varying 
the colloquy with brief naps and mild discussions. 

Three hours passed before Ruth ceased writing 
and permitted the thought line on her pretty fore- 



Rutli reads her poem to the old folks. 


head to relax. Springing to her feet, she inter¬ 
rupted the dialogue with the words: 

“Say, Uncle and Auntie, I was so impressed by 
the different state buildings and their various ex¬ 
hibits that I wrote this little poem, which I mean 
to dedicate to the Honorable David R. Francis, 
President of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition.” 

































226 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


The verses, which drew from her doting foster 
parents excessive plaudits, ran as follows: 

“The sympathizing sister states of this united land 
Bring gifts and greetings to her gracious Queen, 

To proud St. Louis, who controls this Exposition grand— 

The greatest Fair the world has ever seen. 

There’s Alabama with her cotton, snowy white and fine, 
Alaska with her wealth of Klondike gold, 

Bright Arizona with her palace, Moorish in design, 

And Arkansas whose mines bring wealth untold. 

And there is California’s famed ‘Camp of ’49,’ 

And Colorado’s gems are pure as day; 

Connecticut her manufactures offers at the shrine; 

Columbia, a government display. 

Sweet Florida, the Land of Flowers, offers fruit galore. 

And Georgia proves she is a wise bas-bleu, 

Hawaii, Pearl of the Pacific, brings her tropic store, 

And Idaho her grain and grasses, too. 

Brave Illinois her ample pens with live stock does adorn, 
Indian Territory sends her chiefs; 

Fond literary Indiana makes a farm of corn, 

And Iowa is decked with vines and sheafs. 

Coy Kansas shows the proud results of ever busy hands; 

‘The New Kentucky Home’ her sons will thrill; 
Louisiana, dear to me, in matchless beauty stands; 

Maine brings the ships constructed by her skill. 

Fair Maryland an oyster bed has marvellously wrought, 

Wise Massachusetts show's her schools complete, 

Great Michigan her copper mines and orchard fruits has 
brought, 

And Minnesota brings her famous wheat. 

Old Mississippi in the home of brave Jeff Davis lives, 
Missouri has a thousand things to see, 

Montana splendid sapphires, rubies, topaz freely gives, 
Nebraska brings her noted State ‘Musee.’ 

New Jersey rules the home of Washington at Morristown, 
New Mexico has bullion by the ton, 

New York, ‘the Empire State,’ is winning prestige and renown 
Nevada shows how mining ore is done. 

North Carolina brings tobacco to the common goal, 

And North Dakota show r s the fruits of toil, 

Ohio brings farm implements, petroleum and coal, 

And Oklahoma staples from her soil. 

Vast Oregon, of pineries and fisheries will tell, 

The Phillippines a native village send, 

While Pennsylvania displays old Independence Bell, 


THE BEAUTIFUL IVORY CITY 


227 


And Porto Rico, treasures without end. 

Rhode Island shows her rubber, woolens, safes and silver¬ 
ware, 

South Carolina, shrimps and luscious fruits, 

And South Dakota, prairie hay and vegetables rare, 

And Tennessee her mineral pursuits. 

Broad Texas in a star pavilion meets her loyal court, 

And Utah in a palace, small but fine. 

Virginia in Thomas Jefferson’s old home holds fort; 

Wisconsin in her halls of native pine. 

Young Washington brings painted portraits of her lovely face, 
And West Virginia her coal and wood. 

Wyoming with her costly onyx holds a lofty place, 

And all join hands in loving sisterhood. 



The World of Wonders. 




















Startling' ancl Thrilling 
Surprises. 

f/NCLE BOB was unable to get i 

up on the following morning by reason 
of a severe attack of rheumatism, and for several 
days he remained in bed, anxiously cared for by 
Aunt Becky and Ruth. Although they begged him 
to summon a physician, he turned a deaf ear to their 
entreaties and finally said to his faithful wife, who 
was bandaging his cramped limbs with vinegar 
poultices: 

“I want yon to stop threatening me with the doc¬ 
tor, Becky. I’m too hard up to pay sick bills, and 
besides, these St. Louis surgeons have a mania for 
cutting people’s legs off, and* I ain’t strong enough 
and am too far from home to stand any experi¬ 
mentin’.” 

Aunt Becky, with the weak resignation that al¬ 
ways imbued her when her husband was ill, left the 
room to heat flannels at Mrs. Blumenschmidt’s 
range, while Ruth, who was left in charge, sat down 
by the bed and with eyes that seemed to widen in 
sympathy, gazed steadily into his face. 

“Ruth, have you heard from Lige Knaggs?” he 
asked, as soon as they were alone together. 

“No, Uncle,” replied the girl. “He wanted to 
correspond, but I said I would return all the letters 
he sent me.” 


228 



STARTLING SURPRISES 


229 


“That’s jist what’s the matter! I knowed it all 
the time and it’s all your fault!” cried the old man, 
whose restless nerves made him incautious. 

“What do you mean, Uncle Bob?” asked Ruth, 
leaning eagerly forward for an explanation and 
clutching the counterpane with trembling fingers. 

“Nothin’—nothin’ at all; I must have been out of 
my head. Some of them dodgasted herbs Becky 
keeps drugging me with will be the death of me 
yet,” replied the downcast invalid, with a bitter 
laugh that sounded strangely foreign and aroused 
apprehension in his ward’s bosom. 

“Uncle Bob, rheumatism doesn’t bother you so 
much as worry. There is something on your mind 
and I want to know what it is. If there is anything 
I can do for you, please tell me,” said the girl, tears 
springing to her eyes, as she took one of his hands 
and held it tightly. 

“Wal, I didn’t intend to break the secret, Ruth, 
fur fear it would spile your trip; but I reckon it’s 
come to a show-dowm now and something must be 
did,” replied the old man tremulously. “I—I mort¬ 
gaged the old homestead to git money to bring us 
to the World’s Fair, and as I never carried sich a 
wad of bills in my life, I didn’t manage it jist right 
and run short. I mortgaged the farm and every 
dodgasted thing on it to Lige Knaggs, and a few 
days ago I wrote fur a couple of hundred extrv and 
he hain’t answered the letter. I only have four 
dollars and seventeen cents left.” 

“You mortgaged the old homestead that we might 
take this trip, and to that Lige Knaggs!” cried Ruth, 
her heart crushed by the bitter revelation. “Oh, 
Uncle Bob, I’d rather have stayed in Skowhegan 


230 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


forever than to have placed you under obligations 
to him!” 

“Now, Ruth, don’t take it to heart. I think I kin 
clean up the debt in a year or so, fur I’m going to 
work like a nailer when I git back,” said Uncle Bob, 
sorely smitten by her dejected attitude. “Ruth, 
maybe a letter from you would fetch him. Gosh! 
we need the money and we must have it some way.” 

“I don’t want to be under obligations to Lige 
Knaggs. Oh, Uncle, can’t you think of someone 
else?” replied Ruth. 

“There ain’t another soul in Skowhegan I’d ask 
fur a loan, and no one knows that I mortgaged the 
homestead except Lige and Becky. Come, can’t you 
write to him for my sake?” 

The haunting fear that burned in the old man’s 
eyes stayed the stout negative reply that rose to 
her pale, drawn lips. She realized that they were 
at the mercy of Lige Knaggs, whom she despised 
above all living creatures, and her soul rebelled; 
but throttling her pride, she replied bravely: 

“I shall write at once, Uncle. I shall tell him to 
telegraph the money, which I know will come at 
once. Don’t worry any more.” 

“Oh, I won’t; I won’t! My rheumatics is much 
better and I’ll be able to dance a hornpipe when the 
money comes!” cried the old farmer, his face beam¬ 
ing with gratification. 

Seating herself at the table, Ruth completed her 
task and handed the letter to the now happy old 
man. At that moment Aunt Becky entered with a 
pan containing one of her extraordinary concoc¬ 
tions and said excitedly: 

“Ruth, Mrs. Blumenschmidt said there was a 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


231 



Uncle Bob plays his part well—Ruth agrees to write the letter. 











































































232 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


strange man and woman in the parlor waiting to 
see us. I can’t imagine who on earth it is, unless 
mebbe Mayor Wells of St. Louis and his wife heard 
about us being here and come to call. Run down¬ 
stairs and tell ’em to set down and look at the 
album, while I rub Bob’s legs.” 

Whether it was due to Aunt Becky’s further at¬ 
tention or Ruth’s co-operation, Uncle Bob soon felt 
much better, and he decided to mail the letter at 
once, so that Lige would get it as early as possible. 
Putting on his coat and hat he started out for the 
post-office, and meeting a man standing on the cor¬ 
ner, he asked him the direction. 

“Oh, it’s way down town,” was the amused reply. 
“Did you w-ant to mail a letter?” 

“Wal, I reckon I do. I didn’t calculate to rob the 
post-office.” 

“Just go to the next corner and turn the handle 
of the red box you will find there, and the post- 
office department will send a special w-agon to get 
it. If it doesn’t come promptly, turn the crank 
three times in succession and that wdll surely bring 
it,” replied the stranger, but Uncle Bob could not 
see the facetious twinkle in his eye. 

The old man hastened to the designated corner, 
while the stranger took his stand across the street, 
ostensibly to wait for a street car. As the first sig¬ 
nal did not bring the mail w r agon immediately, 
Uncle Bob grew impatient and again rang the bell 
three times in quick succession. Hardly had he re¬ 
linquished his hold when a fire engine came pell- 
mell dowm the street, while from another direction 
came a hook and ladder wagon, followed by a hose 
cart, with the fire marshal bringing up the rear. 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


233 


Before Uncle Bob had time to realize what all the 
hub-bub was about, fire engine apparatus seemed 
to swarm from every direction. 

“Where’s the fire, old man?” asked the marshal, 
stopping close to Uncle Bob, who, with the letter in 
one trembling hand, clung to the alarm box with 
the other. 

“Fire—where? Who—who said there w r as a fire?” 
cried Uncle Bob, in amazement. 

“What did you pull that box for if there wasn’t 
any fire, you blanked fool! Don’t you know a fire 
alarm box when you see it?” cried the exasperated 
marshal. 

“That smart city dude over there with a smile on 
him like a split watermelon told me to ring the bell 
and a hurry-up wagon would come for this letter 
I wrote to Lige Knaggs, of Skowhegan, but I didn’t 
mean to rouse the fire company and the state militia 
and everything else. Catch that feller before he 
has a chanst to duck under cover—the sneakin’ 
pup!” 

The laugh of the St. Louisian, who was the cause 
of the excitement, suddenly changed to a look of 
startled chagrin, when he was chased two blocks by 
three men from the hook and ladder wagon, and 
finally caught and handed over to the patrol, while 
the fire marshal, convinced that Uncle Bob was as 
honest as he was unsophisticated, gave him a lec¬ 
ture, which he was too much dazed to comprehend, 
and then rode away. 

“St. Louis isn’t any better than Skowhegan, and 
not half as good in some respects,” mused the old 
man, when the silence of night again prevailed. 
“You can’t sew a button on your coat in Skowhegan 


234 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


that Widder Slant and her tribe don’t start some 
kind of a scandal about it, and you can’t ring fur a 
mail wagon in St. Louis, to send a letter, that the 
hull town don’t turn out to find out all about it. 
I guess human nature is kinder curious the world 
over.” 

In the meantime, Ruth, too much overcome by 
the recent confession of her guardian, to be curious 
about anything, mechanically hurried down to the 
parlor, where a tall, slender woman, enveloped in 
an odor of musk, rushed forward and crushed her 
in a wild embrace, showering upon her a succession 
of kisses that would have reminded a casual spec¬ 
tator of a blue jay pecking at a ripe cherry. 

“Oh, you dear girl! I’m so beneficently happy to 
see you!” cried the visitor, with a series of little 
shrieks and gurgles. “What a time we had finding 
you!” 

“Why, Mahala Ann Wattles!” exclaimed Ruth, 
when she had time to recover from her second great 
shock of the morning, and stood staring at the 
gaudy creature, who had been the belle of Skow- 
hegan a decade before. She was radiant in a dark 
blue traveling suit, somewhat short in front, and 
wore an assortment of ribbons and ornaments that 
produced a bewildering effect; but the masterpiece 
of her wardrobe was a great flaring hat, pompous 
with vivid yellow buttercups, interspersed with 
clematis buds. 

“How do I look?” she asked, laughing raptur¬ 
ously, as if she knew that the response would be 
highly commendatory. 

“I never saw you look any better,” replied Ruth, 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


235 


truthfully. “How did you get here and who came 
with you?” 

“You sly little minx, can’t you guess? I’ve got a 
surprise for you, but you sha’n’t know what it is 
till I have a visit with you,” said enthusiastic Ma- 
hala Ann, viewing herself in a cracked mirror. 

“This isn’t such an awfully sw T ell place, but it’s 
in a lovely part of town. Have you got in society 
yet?” she continued, after a few moments of dead 
silence. 

“We only came here a few days ago,” said Ruth 
tartly. 

“I s’pose St. Louis is different from Skowhegan in 
regard to society,” continued Mahala Ann. “You 
know they don’t wait till a stranger gets off the 
cars there before they begin to rush him. Daddy 
alius says that since it’s leap year, whenever a new 
man strikes town the girls all line up at the depot 
to give him invitations -to tea parties and dances, 
and run him out of town with their attentions be¬ 
fore the week’s out.” 

Her amused titter was interrupted by a sneeze, 
so volcanic that the portiere behind which it was 
generated, rustled like a living object, and Ruth 
sprang to her feet, her eyes distended with terror. 

“Of course he had to let the cat out of the bag! 
You can’t trust a man to keep still that has the hay 
fever,” said Mahala Ann, laughing until her butter¬ 
cups vibrated as if exposed to the ravages of a tor¬ 
nado. 

“What is it?” whispered Ruth. 

“Come forth, Beauteous Vision, thou Flower of 
Manhood, thou chief of the tribe of Benjamin and 
Mehitabel Jane, and claim the ideal of your dreams 


236 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


—the girl you crossed the continent to strain to 
your bosom !” cried Mahala Ann, with a flowery ges¬ 
ture. 

In response to her command the curtain was 
drawn aside and Lige Knaggs, red and awkward, 
conspicuous in a pale blue tie and a ready-made suit, 



“ Come forth , beauteous vision !” said Mahala Ann. 


so designed as to display to advantage his enormous 
feet and hands, stood before them, too much embar¬ 
rassed to appreciate the sarcasm of the eulogy. 

Ruth’s dislike for the poor mortal was temporarily 
forgotten when she thought of the joy his coming 























































STARTLING SURPRISES 


237 


would give Uncle Bob; while he, emboldened by the 
look of relief that overspread her face, shuffled for¬ 
ward and wrung her hand in ecstasy. 

“I’m mighty glad to see you, Ruth. I didn’t know 
whether you keared fur me or not, but now I know 
you do, and Mahala Ann kin change her snicker to 
t’other side of her face,” he said, squeezing the hand 
of the girl he adored. 

“As soon as Lige got the letter from Uncle Bob 
Springer, telling about all the grand sights to be 
seen in St. Louis, he made up his mind to come, too,” 
explained Mahala Ann, when she had apparently 
recovered her composure. “He run around like a 
hen with his head cut olf or a yearlin’ colt with a 
plionygraph tied to its tail, and bought a lot of 
new clothes, and I caught the St. Louis fever,- too. 
Actually, I was just positively insane to go, but 
daddy wouldn’t hear to it. I told Lige about it and 
he jokingly said he’d loan me the money, so I just 
packed up my grip and left a note to daddy, and off 
I skipped. Lige didn’t s’pose Ud do it, but I fooled 
him that time.” 

“Why, Mahala Ann Wattles, it’s a case of elope¬ 
ment, then! You’ll be the talk of the town! How 
did you ever happen to disobey your father and why 
did you run away?” gasped Ruth. 

“I don’t care a piece of beeswax what the old 
gossips say,” declared Mahala Ann, belligerently, 
although she flushed a delicate crimson. “Lige and 
I have been raised together and there ain’t a person 
in all Skowhegan that would dare say a word about 
Rube Wattle’s daughter. Like Caesar’s wife, I’m 
above suspicion and there ain’t a bit of danger of 
me falling. Now I’ll trip up and find Aunt Becky 


238 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Springer and see what she has to say about it, and 
give you two a little chance to spoon. Ta-ta!” 

She made a dramatic farewell gesture, but being 
unaccustomed to treacherous, polished wood floors, 

she slipped and fell 
violently, her butter¬ 
cups and clematis 
buds collapsing as if 
humiliated. Before 
Lige could assist 
her, she sprang 
nimbly to her feet 
and with another 
hysterical giggle 
and a parting glance 
at the mirror, 
flounced away in all 
her garish glory. 

“Air you reely 
glad to see me, 
Ruth?” asked Lige, 
drawing closer and 
again attempting to 
take her hand. 

“Yes, I am glad, 
for Uncle Bob has 
been wanting to 
hear from you,” replied Ruth, sick at heart, but 
covering her qualms with a feeble smile. 

“I tell you, Ruth, I missed you like the dickens,” 
continued Lige. “I used to stand fur hours in front 
of your house and look at the iron stork in your 
flower garden and think of vou. You’ve alius been 



Mahala suddenly slips and falls. 




STARTLING SURPRISES 


239 


so cold and offish and uppish; but I alius imagined 
you liked me or I wouldn’t have kept takin’ your 
snubs and sendin’ you things, only to have you send 
’em back. You used to run off when I come to see 
you and let me set a hull evening at a stretch with 
Aunt Becky Springer, but I never flared up a bit. I 
used to bring her Sen-Sen and Yucatan gum and 
cloves, fur paw told me oncet that the best way to 
ketch a fractious calf was to slop the cow. I alius 
loved you, and I—” 

“Please don’t, Lige,” begged his idol, suddenly 
drawing back and gazing at him as if he were a hid¬ 
eous monster. 

“I’ve alius been good to you, Ruth, and I’ll be a 
heap better when you’re all my own. I’ll git you a 
hangin’ lamp and a parrot, and everything you 
want, and all the women in Skowhegan will be jeal¬ 
ous of you. You know I’ve done a lot fur Uncle 
Bob Springer and fur you, and I could turn—” 

“Lige, I can’t hear you talk that way,” protested 
the girl, staggering towards the doorway. “Give 
me time to think it over, and until I decide, please 
leave me alone. You have never talked to me this 
way before.” 

“I never talked that way to any gal before; but 
when a feller is bubbling over with love, he’s apt 
to git eloquent. I made up my mind I’d pop the 
question lots of times, but you never give me a 
ehanst. I’ll wait a lettle while longer, but I’ll have 
you, if I’ve got to steal you, although I don’t believe 
that would be as easy as to kidnap Mahala Ann.” 

“Come, Lige; enough of that kind of talk,” said 
Ruth, striving to be calm. “Let’s go up and see 
Uncle Bob. He’s been very ill.” 


240 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


The meeting that followed was a demonstrative 
one. When Aunt Becky had rebuked Mahala Ann 
roundly for her rash conduct, and Lige had been 
greeted with honest cordiality, the old lady as 
usual was disposed to look upon the inevitable as 
the work of Divine Providence, and when Uncle Bob 
returned he cheered and cried with delight. 

The next day they went to the Fair grounds, ac¬ 
companied by Mrs. Blumenschmidt, at Lige’s invita¬ 
tion, and spent the morning wandering about in 
unsystematic fashion. 

“What’s all this fuss about anyway? It looks to 
me like a reckless waste of money and time to go 
to all this trouble for only six or seven months. 
What good does it do and who does it benefit?” said 
Uncle Bob. 

“Why, Uncle,” replied Ruth, “it’s a world lesson, 
an aggregation of science, beauty and art. It shows 
the results of man’s wonderful genius, displayed in 
the most instructive and attractive manner, educat¬ 
ing and enlightening the entire world. In a few 
moments we see what has taken hundreds of years 
to bring about. Compare that new gang plow you 
bought last fall with that unpretentious, awkward 
stick we noticed while passing through the Agri¬ 
cultural Palace. For thousands of years it has been 
the only plow used in many countries still strug¬ 
gling with ancient ideas which have been allowed 
to remain in a dormant state for centuries. 

“Even the Skowhegan farmers seem out of date 
when we look at the wonderful machines used by 
the western agriculturists—steam gang plows, har¬ 
vesters, threshers and other modern implements. 

“The forty million dollars spent will not be a 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


241 


drop in the bucket compared with the influence of 
the Exposition upon the development of every line 
of science and industry in all parts of the earth. 
Think of it, Uncle Bob, every state in the Union, 
nearly every country on the globe, every trade and 
profession—all vying with one another to tell the 
wonderfully fascinating story of progress! When 
these magnificent buildings and even we ourselves 
shall have passed away, the influence of this won¬ 
derful combination of beauty, science and art will 
still live in memory, and those following us will 
realize and appreciate the marvelous advancement 
during the last century.” 

Mahala Ann did not go into raptures over the 
wonderful exhibits which confronted them on every 
side. On the contrary, she looked very critical, and 
soon became cross and tired. 

“Wal, Mahaly Ann, the next time you go to a 
world’s fair, which will probably be in one of the 
Twin Cities of the great Northwest, I’d advise you 
not to dress like you w T as going to an afternoon 
thimble party,” said Uncle Bob, puffing energet¬ 
ically at his pipe. “I think them high-heeled slip¬ 
pers and tight belt and your other gew-gaws is the 
principal cause of your trouble.” 

“Well, the very idea of your criticising the way 
I dress!” she exclaimed w^rathfullv. “Maybe I don’t 
just exactly come up to your ideal as far as my 
wardrobe is concerned, but I try to dress in style, 
and I flatter myself that I please the people of good 
taste, judging from the way the well-dressed men 
all turn around to look at me.” 

“Wal, I should think they would,” continued 
Uncle Bob, who would rather tilt with her than 


242 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Aunt Becky, for the reason that her feminine van¬ 
ities were more numerous and ridiculous. “Men 
don’t alius stare ’cause they admire, if the fool 
women only knowed it. Old Hank Spencer’s blind 
sorrel mare, that walked on three legs, used to 
draw twicet as many spectators as any thorough¬ 
bred hoss in the country. You can’t expect to enjoy 
anything if you’re alius lookin’ fur something to 
spile it. Libbie Jones didn’t like Californey when 
she went there on a Christian Endeavor excursion, 
and said the climate was unhealthy. Truth of the^ 
matter was she set inside the boarding-house all 
the time worrying about tarantulas.” 

“Beg pardon, sir, but no smoking is allowed inside 
these grounds at present,” said a mounted guard, 
elated with the recent possession of great authority, 
as he halted in front of Uncle Bob. 

“Mebbe you think I’m an incendiary or an anar¬ 
chist or somethin’,” replied the old man warmly. 
“P’raps you’d like a lettle puff yourself.” 

“Please put that pipe away,” was the stern com¬ 
mand. 

“It seems to me that you St. Louis people are 
flaunting your morals a leetle high,” said Uncle 
Bob, with a tremendous puff that set the officer to 
coughing. “With your keep-out signs and your 
hands-off signs and your no-smoking signs and your 
no-dogs-allowed signs and your Sunday closing no¬ 
tions—” 

“Will you please put that pipe away?” 

“Jist two more puffs, if you please, Sonny. I 
hain’t going to waste terbaccer fur the likes of 
you,” resumed Uncle Bob, smoking with avidity for 
another minute, before knocking out the ashes and 



'Smoking not allowed, Sir' 































244 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


placing the pipe in his pocket, while the youthful 
guard rode away, angry and disgusted. 

“I’m just glad you got a good calling down,” de¬ 
clared Mahala Ann, with a laugh that restored her 
to her usual good humor. “A man that smokes a 
pipe in public with ladies is certainly more to be 
abhorred than a woman who dresses in style.” 

Suddenly there was a crashing of cymbals and a 
thunder of drums mingling together in a gusty pre¬ 
lude, and a band in one of the stands of the Plaza 
St. Anthony struck up a brilliant Meyerbeer selec¬ 
tion in a manner that made Uncle Bobb forget his 
recent tilt with the guard. 

“That’s Susie’s Band!” cried Aunt Becky. “I alius 
wanted to hear her, so we kin set right down on the 
steps of this big building and enjoy her music.” 

“I don’t see that it sounds any better than the 
Skowhegan band,”said Lige,evidently disappointed. 
“Since Old Bill Tucker plays the bass drum there 
ain’t a band I ever heard tell of that could make 
more noise.” 

“That’s right, and there’s nothing about this band 
that would make a person want to fly,” said Aunt 
Becky. “Elvira Dingle fainted once w T lien she 
heard ’em play ‘The Maiden’s Prayer,’ with irrita¬ 
tions.” * 

“That’s nothin’,” said Uncle Bob contemptuously. 
“Old Dingle, her father, died a week after he had 
been to church fur the fust time in thirty-seven 
years and heard the old woman choir sing, ‘Oh, for 
a Thousand Tongues to Sing.’ Some of ’em couldn’t 
sing if they had a million tongues, fur any fool 
knows that the voice is the main thing. Howsome- 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


245 


ever, if they had a thousand tongues to gossip, some 
of ’em would make purty good headway.” 

“How can we enjoy the music if you keep talking 
all the time?” said Ruth impatiently. 

“I alius thought people went to musicales to visit 
and re-cooperate,” laughed Uncle Bob. 

“You people can’t sit here on these steps!” 
shouted another guard very curtly. “By paying a 
small admission fee you can get inside of the chain 
over there and have chairs.” 

“Wal, I’ll be gormed if a feller kin be comfortable 
any place in this here show,” exclaimed Uncle Bob 
petulantly. “I wish they’d have all the restrictions 
printed inside of the guide book so we’d know how 
to act. I wouldn’t pay a penny to set in one of them 
green chairs jist to hear Susie play and go through 
her monkey-shines every time the crowd cheers. 

“Why, Uncle, Sousa is a man,” said Ruth. 

They had not proceeded far, when the band struck 
up “The Star Spangled Banner,” with such admir¬ 
able vim and expression, Uncle Bob and his party 
were enraptured, and even Uige admitted that it 
had some points superior to those of the SkoAvhegan 
organization. Later when they heard the famous 
Innes and Weil bands and the orchestra of Ernst 
and Bendix in the St. Louis Plaza, their praise was 
unstinted. 

“After all, it ain’t so much the drums and the way 
you pound the daylights out of ’em, as it is all them 
leetle crinkly instrooments that make your sensi¬ 
bilities sizz like water on a hot stove and go off in 
steam,” said Aunt Becky. 

As bad luck would have it, Uncle Bob, who had 
not yet recovered from his rheumatic limp, was vis- 


246 


UNCLE BOB ANB AUNT BECKY 


ited by another dire calamity that hurt his pride as 
well as his backbone. 

With Mrs. Blumenschmidt he was admiring a tan¬ 
dem bicycle in the Palace of Transportation, when a 
Dutchman, very ragged and dirty, came up in front 
of them and gave his companion a brutal leer that 



“ Bunder und Blitzen ! I split you clean up to your chin.” 


caused her to utter a piercing shriek and cling to 
his arm for protection. 

“What do you mean by insulting a lady, you dod- 
gasted, low-lived rowdy!” cried Uncle Bob, quickly 
assuming the aggressive. 




























STARTLING SURPRISES 


247 


“I show you vhat I dinks, you gross hog! Dunder 
und Blitzen, I split you clean up to your chin mit my 
knife und die you up shust like a bretzel!” shrieked 
the Dutchman, completing his tirade with a sturdy 
blow aimed full at Uncle Bob’s nose, and in another 
moment the two were rolling upon the floor, where 
they scuffled fiercely, raising no end of dust and 

excitement. 

“Och, Mein Gott in 
Himmel! Oh, Chacob, 
Chacob! quit dot, aber 
I calls der boliceman! 
Oh, Chacob! Chacob, 
dot man vas my board¬ 
er und vas shust been 
sick in bet und you’ll 
kill him! Help! help!” 
screamed Mrs. Blu- 
menschmidt, execut¬ 
ing a fantastic dance 
around the prostrate, 
struggling bodies, 
while the crowd began 
to gather. A guard 
heard the commotion 
! and ran to the spot, 
arriving in time to pre¬ 
vent the enraged 
Dutchman from 
“ Ach, mein Qott in Himmel /” strangling his adver- 
cried A£ts. Blnmenschmidt. sarv to insensibilitv. 
“What is the cause of this disturbance?” he 
shouted, after he had succeeded in separating them. 



























248 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“I caught dot villain valking mit mein frau und 
making luf to her. I saw ’em mit my own eyes, und 
vhen I dried to dalk, he up mit his fists und joomp 
on me und struck me und lay me out on de grount, 
flat as a gooseberrah pie und pooty nigh proke my 
pack,” vociferated the Dutchman, whose rage had 
somewhat abated. 

“Och, Mr. Policeman, d^s man vas a shentleman, 
und he vas my ferry good freund, und ve vas not 
making luf, but sliust luking at a bischnickle built 
pig enough for two, and dot ting—dot wr-r-r-retch 
dot use to be my hoosbant, coom gicking und branc- 
ing arount, und make trooble!” said Mrs. Blumen- 
schmidt, with the assistance of appealing gestures, 
as she stood before the guard, her eyes swimming 
in tears and her nose red enough to arouse the sus¬ 
picion of the laughing spectators. 

“I didn’t even know the woman was a Missus,” 
said Uncle Bob, brushing his clothes. “I’ve got a 
family of my own on t’other side of the building 
and I kin soon tell you who I be if it’s necessary. 
If any old kraut-stuffer wants to wallop me, he’ll 
have to.be mighty sure he’s got more sterling qual¬ 
ities than blow and beer to back him up.” 

“You’d better go along with your husband,” said 
the guard, but Mrs. Blumenschmidt replied indig¬ 
nantly: 

“Go along mit him? Go along mit dot vife-peater 
dot I only lif mit two munts und dot vas blenty— 
dot prute dot schlap my mouth vhen I was sick in 
bet mit de salivation? I’d rather geep boarders und 
valk hant in hant mit der old Scratch dan ljf mit a 
voman-ldller!” 

With a scornful laugh, the lady drew herself 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


249 


proudly and walked away with Uncle Bob, her 

ex-husband proceeding 
in a.n opposite direc¬ 
tion, followed by the 
guard. 

They found the rest 
3f the party looking for 
them and Uncle Bob 
told his story without 
embellishing it with 
useless details, while 
M r s. Blumenschmidt 
expatiated upon the 
undesirable traits of 
her former husband. 
^ During the rest of the 
> day, the old man in- 
sisted upon walking 
close to the side of his 
life companion, and 
M r s. Blumenschmidt 
fastened herself upon 
Lige, to his great dis¬ 
gust. 

The Pike provided 
them with the amuse¬ 
ments that pleased all, 
and with giddy aban- 

The howling ticket seller on the Pike. ^ on plunged into 

its vortex. The dis¬ 
tracting music, the shouts of ticket sellers, the 
Tvealth of bright colors and the antics of a hilarious 
multitude of sightseers surpassed their most exag- 












250 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


gerated expectations. Never in the history of the 
nation had so many diverse and excellent attrac¬ 
tions been collected to please the public, and never 
were the senses of the Skowliegan delegation more 
bewildered, as when they passed from place to 
place, each a world in itself. 

There was far-off Alaska, truly cold in its suggest¬ 
iveness; the ornate Moorish Palace; the abode of 
the unkempt Cliff Dwellers; Mysterious Asia, from 
whence proceeded most unearthly yells; the Palais 
du Costume; the Siberian railway; Old St. Louis; 
Constantinople; a Southern plantation; Battle 
Abby; the shops of the glassworkers; the Temple 
of Mirth; Statisticum; the Irish village; Over and 
Under the Sea; Seville; the Magic Whirlpool; the 
water chutes; the fire fighters; the naval exhibit; 
Jim Key, the trick horse; and scores of other allure¬ 
ments. 

As their tastes seemed to differ widely, Ruth sug¬ 
gested that they divide their party into three 
couples, one to visit Cairo, another Hagenbeck’s 
Animal Show, and the last to explore “Creation,” 
all to meet a half hour later to relate their experi¬ 
ences at the “Galveston Flood,” which terminated 
the Pike, thus saving time and expense. At the 
time specified, the party were again re-united at the 
place designated, Ruth and Mahala Ann being the 
last to arrive, the latter perspiring from unusual 
exertion. 

“Mahala Ann and I found Cairo very interesting,” 
laughed Ruth, while her companion fanned herself 
with a tiny kerchief and looked morose. 

“I never saw such a girl as Ruth,” complained 
Mahala Ann. “She kept edging me on to do things 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


251 


and yet she wouldn’t do anything herself, but stand 
and make fun of me. The streets of Cairo are at¬ 
rocious! I wouldn’t live there for anything. The 
people are all weazened and greasy, and the men 
wear either white veils or red turbans, queer 
jackets or else night-gowns, go barefooted, and 
haven’t any sense of decency. Well, nothing would 
do but I had to ride in the procession that goes 
through the streets every few minutes. All the 
people began to get on the mules and there wasn’t 
anything left for me but the camel and I had to 
get in the basket with a horrid, fat Norwegian, who 
had been drinking some kind of intoxicating liquor. 
Ruth wouldn’t get in with me, but just stood, nearly 
killing herself with laughter. Then they started 
that terrible music and those brazen priests in little 
gauze accordion-pleated skirts and brass bracelets 
on their calves began to dance ahead to herald the 
procession. I honestly never felt so cheap in my 
life. Such bawling and such actions! I wondered 
what daddy would have thought if he had seen me. 
Then the driver poked the camel with something 
that looked like a soap stick, to make it run, and 
we began to sway back and forth in that big clothes- 
basket like peas in a pod. Sometimes the fat man 
was in front and some of the time I was holding 
him around the neck, and sometimes we were 
both at the bottom of it with our feet palpitating 
over the sides. I cried and pleaded for mercy, but 
the more I shouted, the harder they made the.camel 
run and the worse the Norwegian swore, and those 
nasty heathens acted positively scandalous. I’m 
just as black and red as a checker board and I want 
to go home—my hat’s just ruined!” 


252 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“I s’pose the spectators took you for part of the 
show. You look like you’d been riding a hull day 
in Chicago in a North. Clark Street car,” laughed 
Uncle Bob, while Mahala Ann bit her lip trying to 
suppress her vexation. 

“What did you and Mrs. Blumenschmidt do, 
Lige?” asked Iiuth, smiling mischievously, for she 
had paired them off 
and sent them to 
Hagenbeck’s Animal 
Show. 

“We didn't go to the show,” he re 
plied, glumly. “I didn’t care to hear 
crocodiles and seals and white mice, 
playing musical instrooments when I 
could hear Susie’s band play twicet as 
good, without paying for it.” 

“I s’posed it would hurt you to part 
with your money,” said Mahala Ann 
spitefully. 

“I went inside of the Ozark shoot¬ 
ing gallery and fired at the paste¬ 
board bears and peacocks and 
things, and didn’t even win a post¬ 
age stamp,” he continued, looking 
very much put out. 

“And what did poor Mrs. Blumenschmidt do?” 


Lige shoots at 
pasteboard 
bears and pea¬ 
cocks. 


asked Kuth. 

“Oh, she stood outside in. front of the 'Hereafter’ 
and waited till I got through,” he replied. 

“Well, such selfishness—you stingy old miser!” 
hissed Mahala Ann, glad to find a target at which 
to aim her ill humor. 










STARTLING SURPRISES 


253 


“We saw ‘Creation’ and it was sublime !” cried 
Uncle Bob, “It did me as much good as a sermon, 
although I didn’t have a chance to take a nap.” 

“Yes, but I was bored to death before the thing 
started,” said Aunt Becky. “You know you have to 
go up a flight of stairs facing the audience, and 
when we came up, all the hundreds and hundreds of 



Uncle Bob waved his umbrella in their faces and made a speech. 


handkerchiefs, and Bob thought they was trying to 
honor him ’cause he was going to run fur the office 
of county drain commissioner, and although I hiked 
at his coat tail every blessed minute, that old luna¬ 
tic pulled off his hat and made a speech. 

“You just ought to have heard the wind-up! ‘Now, 
friends,’ he said, shaking the big family umbrella 






















254 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


in their faces, ‘as we go through life let us eat, 
drink and be merry, for the morrow we know not.’ 
You can guess how they hollered and acted, and I 
felt like coming down through the clouds. Men 
don’t have to wear bracelets on their calves and go 
bare-footed, and have rings in their noses to be 
heathens, Mahala Ann. When we got seated an¬ 
other stylish couple came up, and the crowd did the 
same thing to them. That was part of the show, 
and represented what a big hullaballo could be 
made out of nothing. Everybody that came up got 
cheered the same way and I could see Bob gitting 
smaller and smaller until he’d almost fit in the main 
hole of an ant hill, and he began to swaller real 
hard as if he was trying to keep from blasphemy. 
Purty soon the curtain was drawn and we saw how 
the universe was made and how the earth devel¬ 
oped from something that wasn’t no bigger than a 
lemon until it became life size. It was glorious and 
inspiring.” 

“Yes, but they had to spile it at the tail end when 
they had seven females to stand up on a sort of a 
clock shelf, to represent the seven days of the week, 
wearing white dresses with frills and tuckers in 
’em,” growled Uncle Bob. “They had big rats in 
their hair and I couldn’t for the life of me see why 
the likes of them should be in ‘Creation’.” 

“Look at that poor old squaw setting there by 
the roadside,” said Aunt Becky, pointing towards 
an Indian painted red and yellow, with a wisp of 
black hair falling down upon a blanket of many 
colors. “The poor thing looks so doleful, as if she 
was flushed with this great onward march of civil¬ 
ization. I’m going to speak to her.” 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


255 


The kind-hearted old lady crossed the street and 
bending over the gaudy creature, placed her hand 
upon the black be-featkered head and said tenderly: 
“I alius felt so sorry fur you poor critters, driven 



Aunt Becky embraced the wrong Indian. 


helter skelter from your beautiful valleys and rivers 
to that leetle potato patch out West, while the 
Dagoes come streaming into the country at the 
rate of one hundred a minute and nobody cares. 
You look a heap like Pocohontas, I imagine. Ain’t 




























256 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


you afeard to set out here with all them profane 
people standing around? What’s your name, 
dearie?” 

“Me a Sioux—me no speak English much,” was 
the guttural reply. 

“Sue—I alius loved that name! It jist suits your 
style of beauty,” continued Aunt Becky, placing an 
arm tenderly around the neck of the grinning In¬ 
dian. “Bob never liked the name, ’cause it sounds 
too much like a law suit.” 

“For the land sake, Aunt Becky, do stop embrac¬ 
ing that Indian!” cried Mahala Ann, flying to the 
rescue of the old lady. “A man over here says it’s 
not a squaw, but old Chief Red Devil!” 

“Look out fur your switch, Becky! Like as not 
he’ll scalp you!” shouted Uncle Bob, laughing until 
the Pike reverberated. 

“Why, fur the land sake!” gasped Aunt Becky, 
fleeing as fast as her feet would take her. “He 
looks fur all the world like a woman. I didn’t 
s’pose the men squaws painted their-faces and wore 
beads and bracelets.” 

“The idee of you, Becky, who alius boast of your 
constancy, makin’ love to a big buck Sioux in broad 
daylight,” wheezed Uncle Bob. 

“That robe the Indian had on looked like the big 
wrap Lige bought for his mother to w T ear to church 
over her new silk dress,” laughed Mahala Ann, 
“When I saw it, I nearly died with merriment, fur 
it was pink, bordered with baby blue and lined with 
buff. I made so much fun, he took it back and 
asked the clerk if it was appropriate for a woman 
seventy-nine years old to wear to church, and the 
clerk said it was a kimona and was only intended 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


257 


to wear to the bath-room, and as Lige folks haven’t 
got any bath-room, he gave it to me to cut up for 
a crazy quilt.” 

“Poor Lige is as unfortunate as Biddy Hoofma- 
rine,” said Ruth, joining in the laugh. “Her highest 



aspiration was to lead a German, and when she 
married a well-to-do man from Berlin, her friends 
used to say in a joking way that they believed her 
supreme wish would be gratified; but her husband 
did all the leading.” 

When they reached the Fine Arts building on the 










































258 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


hill, all of which had not yet been turned by the 
painters from white to the old ivory color that was 
to be the dominating hue of the various palaces of 
the Exposition, another guard met them at the 
door and bade Aunt Becky check her umbrella. 



Shocked at Statuary. 


“I never seen sich people to wring money out of 
visitors as they do out here!” she exclaimed in dis¬ 
gust. “I’d like to know why my umberelP liain’t as 
good a right in here as my bonnet or anyother arti- 





























STARTLING SURPRISES 


259 


cle of clothing I have on. Next thing we know 
they’ll be charging us duty fur wearing jewelry.” 

“People are very apt to point at the works of art 
with ’em and deface ’em, and we are required to 
check ’em,” said the guide. 

“I spect he thinks you’re Carrie Nation and might 
git to smashing things,” said Uncle Bob, fishing out 
ten cents. 

“Now r , young man, that umberelP has been in the 
family well nigh on to twenty years and if you lose 
it, I’ll make Bob wear it out over your back,” threat¬ 
ened Aunt Becky as she gave it up. 

Ruth was delighted with the oreads, satyrs and 
other mythological creations from the brushes of 
the world’s greatest artists, but Aunt Becky was 
shocked repeatedly, especially in the French gal- 
lery. 

“Such perniciousness!” she finally gasped, as she 
turned her back to a life size painting of Adam and 
Eve in the Garden of Eden on a hot day. “I’d 
punch that shameless picture so full of holes it 
would look like a skimmer, if I had my umberelP. I 
want to git out of this photographt gallery and see 
something more calculated to please modest eyes.” 

At that juncture Mahala Ann, who, bubbling with 
the spirit of adventure had wandered unchaperoned 
into the Cuban gallery, came skipping back, very 
red and excited, but still able to giggle. 

“Oh, Aunt Becky, I’ve had the most romantic ex¬ 
perience!” she cried, striving to suppress a hyster¬ 
ical peal of laughter with a kerchief much too small 
for the purpose. “I was looking at that big paint¬ 
ing of Psyche admiring herself in a creek—you 
know she was the girl that caused the Trojan war 


260 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


and got in a love entanglement with Paris, and 
after that Psyche knots were all the rage—well, I 
looked up and there stood a handsome man, a regu¬ 
lar prince, quite as perfect as the Apollo of Bell- 
ville, only a little better dressed, and he was look¬ 
ing right in my eyes and smiled.” 


“Mebbe he was look¬ 
ing at your hat,” said 
Uncle Bob glumly. 



“He wasn’t any such 
thing!” retorted Ma- 
liala Ann, making a 
wry face at Uncle Bob 
and giggling awhile 
before she proceeded. 


“He was tall and 
square- shouldered, 
and had the bluest 
eves and the sweetest 
little Van Dyke 
beard, and I said to 
myself, while my 
heart pi tty pattered 
outrageously — Maha- 


“Maybe he was looking at your hat. ” la Ann, your oppor¬ 
tunity has come.” 

“And did you embrace it?” asked Uncle Bob. 

“No, I did what any self-respecting girl of good 
taste would do under the circumstances,” replied 
the excited speaker rather irritably. “I looked down 
modestly—kind o’ put one foot in front of the other 
just like this, and sighed a little, and—” 





STARTLING SURPRISES 


261 


“He must have thought you Was a living picture,” 
laughed Uncle Bob. 

“He didn’t anything of the kind! He looked ad¬ 
miringly at me and came so close I could have grab¬ 
bed a handful of whiskers, if I had been one of the 
impulsive kind like Carmen, and he said: ‘Pardon 
me, fair maiden, but your face reminds me of old 
times, and I associate it with my childhood, when 
a certain little girl strangely like you must have 
looked many years ago, hunted wild flowers with 
me over the hills and meadow.’ Now wasn’t that 
just too dear and romantic for anything?” 

“Now, Mahala Ann Wattles, if your pa ever 
ketched you flirting like that, he’d wear his slipp’ry 
elm cane out on the feller’s back and your’n too,” 
said Aunt Becky with unusual severity. “How 
unladylike fur you to stand there and listen to the 
compliments of some wolf in sheep’s clothing, who 
is on the trail fur innocent gals like you! Why 
didn’t you slap him right in the face?” 

“And spoil a romance? Oh, Aunt Becky, you are 
too prosaic. If you had been to a state normal 
school two terms, you wouldn’t take life so seriously. 
When a girl knows she has met her beau ideal, she 
loses all sense of propriety, and the fellow under¬ 
stands, for he suffers the same way. Something 
told me to come to St. Louis, even if I did have to 
run away, and—” 

“Wal, Mahaly Ann, you’re as daffy as a snow- 
blind sheep, and the sooner you git back to Skow- 
hegan the better,” said Uncle Bob in sheer disgust. 
“Like as not he was a married man with six child¬ 
ren or mebbe a moll-buzzer waiting fur a chanst 
to grab your reticule.” 


262 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“And what did you say when he made his pretty 
speech?” asked Ruth with a roguish laugh. 

“I don’t know as I said anything, I jist flushed a 
little—Oh, I believe I did say ‘Mayhaps,’” replied 
Mahala Ann, her spirits, temporarily dampened by 
the advice of her elders, spouting forth again with 
renewed vigor. “I just sort of believe in re-incar¬ 
nation. Like as not we were lovers in some pre¬ 
existence. Mebbe he was Parsifal and I was 
Kundrv, the fairest of women.” 

“I’d hate most mighty bad to be the re-incarnation 
of something that never existed,” said Uncle Bob 
dryly, as they walked out of the building to the 
sward of a beautiful stretch of park, through which 
ran an artificial stream that dazzled in the sunlight. 

“What a dandy place this is!” exclaimed Lige, 
looking devotedly down at Ruth, who shuddered 
coldly, although his gaze was extremely ardent. 
“I wish we could have a river in our back yard like 
that at home, jist fur you and me to set by.” 

“It makes me think of the old revival song we all 
love,” said Mahala Ann, warbling in a shrill, nasal 
falsetto: 

‘Shall we gather at the river, 

The beau-tee-ful, the beau-tee-ful river/ 

“It’s almost sacrilegious fur yoo to sing it, 
though,” said Uncle Bob. 

“Oh, there he comes! There comes the man that 
spoke to me!” cried Mahala Ann, almost frenzied 
with joy. “Something told me he would follow me 
and claim his own. Now, Aunt Becky, don’t say 
anything to scare him away. Make him welcome 
for my sake. Won’t you?” 

The stranger was as she had described, tall and 
handsome, with a rosy complexion, somewhat 


STARTLING SURPRISES 


263 


bronzed by the sun, and a Van Dyke beard neatly 
trimmed. He slowly approached them and was 
about to raise his hat, when Aunt Becky, with a 
far-reaching cry, rushed towards him, and falling 
upon his bosom, twined her arms about his neck, 
embracing him again and again. 

Mahala Ann’s face turned ashen white and she 
was struck speechless with surprise, while the rest 
of the party were smitten with a dumbness and a 
numbness hitherto unfelt by them. 

“Oh, Tom, my boy,—my long lost son. I knew 
you'd come back—I knew it! My prayer is ans¬ 
wered—it was His will after all!” cried the old lady, 
weeping with ineffable joy. 

“By the big dipper of the celestial firmyment, it’s 
Tom—our boy Tom! Is it possible—is it real!” 
cried Uncle Bob! “I didn’t recognize him on account 
of his whiskers. Thank Heaven, he has come back 
to us! Becky, I told you the whole world would 
be here.” 

The stranger greeted his father with equal teu- 
derness, and then embraced his mother again. 

“Where have you been all these years, Tom?” she 
asked, still weeping 1 . “Oh, my boy, tell us all 
about it. Is it true! Is it possible!” 

“The story is a long and strange one,” said the 
long absent son with much tenderness. “I arrived a 
week ago at San Francisco from Australia. Having 
accomplished my desire to accumulate a fortune, 
I decided to go back to Skowhegan to see my dear 
old father and mother and make their last days 
happy. I was determined not to return until I 
could obey your command, mother, never to show 
myself there until I amounted to something. I 


264 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



Fate wills that they meet at the beautiful river , 
























STARTLING SURPRISES 


265 


have made a snug little fortune at mining—enough 
to keep us all in luxury as long as we live.” 

For fully fifteen minutes Tom and his parents, 
too happy to notice the spectators that gathered 
around, talked rapidly and earnestly, while Aunt 
Becky kissed him again and again and Uncle Bob 
never for an instant released his hand. 

A strange expression swept over Ruth’s face as 
she looked upon this exciting drama. 

“I furgot the rest of the party,” he finally said, 
motioning for them to advance. “We were so sel¬ 
fish in our happiness at finding our boy we never 
thought of anybody else. Here, Ruth, hurry up. 
Tom, this is your adopted sister, although she still 
goes by the name of Ruth Burton.” 

The look of admiration that shone in Tom’s eyes 
as he greeted her, found its response in the heart 
of the unaffected girl, who realizied that she, too, 
as well as Mahala Ann, was confronted by her 
soul’s highest ideal of manhood. 

“This is Mahala Ann Wattles and Lige Knaggs of 
Skowhegan—you remember ’em. Mahala Ann is 
two years and seven months older than you be,” 
added Uncle Bob. 

“I think I can place you now,” said Tom, shaking 
hands with the girl, who was too much overcome 
to even exchange greetings, and for once in her life 
had nothing to say when an opportunity was 
afforded. “When you pulled my coat tail in the art 
gallery, I was rather rude, for which I beg pardon.” 

“Where are you stopping, Tom?” asked Uncle 
Bob. 

“At the Southern Hotel, and where are you stay¬ 
ing, father?” 


266 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“With Mrs. Blumenschmidt here. She lives on 
Humphrey street.” 

“You must join me at the Southern, just as soon 
as you can pack your grips,” said Tom authorita¬ 
tively. “We’ll go right away and see to it.” 

They left the ideal spot, with its velvet law T n and 
sparkling waters, and as Ruth watched the old 
people, both leaning upon the staff of their declin¬ 
ing years, the significant hymn suggested by Mahala 
Ann, surged through her mind and filled her with 
unspeakable happiness, for a multitude of heavenly 
voices seemed to chant in exquisite harmony of 
the meeting at the beautiful river. 



They left the ideal spot . 








The Wheel of Fortune 
|| Decides Their Destiny. 

il HE days that followed were happy indeed 
to the re-united Springer family, and 
Tom, after seeing that they were all supplied with 
the comforts of a first-class hotel, did everything 
else in his power to increase their enjoyment. 

With marvelous intuition he ascertained the 
needs of each and immediately set about to supply 
them. He also politely repulsed the increasing 
attentions of Maliala Ann, who seemed to labor 
under the hallucination that he had been sent by 
Providence solely to rescue her from spinsterhood, 
and while hearing from his mother the early his¬ 
tory of Ruth, he also learned about the mortgaged 
homestead and the intolerable attitude the beauti¬ 
ful girl was compelled to assume. 

But it was Widow Slant, the foremost gossip of 
Skowhegan, who afforded him the means to bring 
about the desired results, which proved to him that 
sometimes a gossip may do a piece of work worthy 
of commendation. 

One morning, after spending an almost sleepless 
night, thinking of modest Ruth, with her animated 
face, rare intelligence and charm of manner, he went 
to his mother’s room, but was chilled by the baleful 
atmosphere of the surroundings. 

267 





268 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Mahala Ann, with head bowed down, sat upon the 
couch w r eeping bitterly, while Ruth and Aunt Becky 
stood beside her, trying their utmost to console her. 
Uncle Bob sat in an arm-chair, apparently very 
much disturbed, while Lige stood pigeon-toed in the 

center of the room, look¬ 
ing as embarrassed as if 
he had been charged by 
a police court judge with 
stealing chickens. 

“What in the world is 
the matter V’ asked Tom in 
great concern. 

“Oh, Becky got a letter 
from that dodgasted, in¬ 
fernal old Widder Slant 
that said a hull lot of 
things about Mahala 
Ann’s character and the 
poor gal is all broke up 
over it. Becky hadn’t no 
business to tell her, but 
women’s worse failing is 
gossiping; they can’t keep 
a secret,” said Uncle Bob 
sourly. 

“I meant it fur her own 
good,” replied Aunt Becky 
warmly. “Mahala Ann 
has alius been a sort of a darter to me, ever since 
her mother died, and I thought it was my dooty to 
tell her. Of course her paw raised Cain when he 
found her note saying she had slipped off to the 



THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


269 


World’s Fair with Lige, and Widder Slant says that 
people are talking dreadfully, and they gave her 
Sunday school class to Elvira Dingle.” 

"I didn’t think they would dare to talk that way 
about me and that my father would be so heartless,” 
wailed Mahala Ann. “Fm ruined in that town and 
I’ll drown myself in the Mississippi river, for I 
never can go back.” . 

"Now, Mahala Ann, what’s the use of pulling your 
hair out and fretting about what a lot of old gossips 
say,” replied Uncle Bob, who felt keen compassion 
for the girl, now that she was experiencing bitter 
retribution for her lack of discretion. “Did you 
ever hear of an old backbiter running down some¬ 
body else that didn’t have some nasty scandal in 
her own family to look after sooner or later? 
Scandal mongers are alius especially hard on the 
shortcomings they have themselves, and the pure- 
minded don’t bother about keeping other peoples’ 
records in smooth running order.” 

"I’ll never, never hold up my head again,” insisted 
Mahala Ann, almost exhausted from weeping. "I 
never talk about anybody, but if the facts w T ere 
known old Widder Slant and Elvira Dingle and a 
few others have enough to do to keep their own 
door-yards clean. Old Widder Slant is a hypocrite 
and would steal her best friend’s good name if she 
could and sell it for .a nickel, and Elvira Dingle’s 
conduct is shameful—a pretty Sunday school teacher 
she’ll make! I know all about her, for old Granny 
Butters told me a few tales I could tell if I was a 
mind to repeat things.” 

"That’s right, Mahala Ann,—spunk up a leetle 


270 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


bit and then go back and clean ’em all out,” said 
Uncle Bob encouragingly. 

“We’ll find a way out of this scandal, so don’t 
cry any more, Mahala, you better save your tears, 
maybe 3 r ou’ll need them when you and Lige are not 
feeling so sweet on each other as you do now,” 
said Tom reassuringly, as he tactfully left the room, 
motioning Lige to follow him. 

They met in the writing-room, where Tom drew a 
small book from his pocket and sitting down at a 
desk, filled out a check. Then turning to Lige, he 
said: 

“I want to thank you, old man, for your kindness 
to my father. Here’s a check for the full amount 
he owes you, as well as the interest for one year, and 
a neat little sum of five hundred for your wedding 
present.” 

“My wedding present?” gasped Lige, his ears 
flushing a bright cranberry red. 

“Yes—of course you intend to do the right thing 
by Mahala Ann Wattles and take her back home, 
an honorable married woman.” 

“Why, I never even thought of marrying Mahala 
Ann,” said Lige, with unusual spirit. “She palmed 
herself off on me and came of her own accord. I— 
I ain’t responsible ’cause she got her foot in it.” 

“You certainly are as much to blame as she,” said 
Tom with austerity. “You know how easily girls 
of that type are led into indiscretions and naturally 
she would be glad to go any distance with you. I 
have seen a good deal of the world and believe I am 
correct in thinking that she is dead in love with 
you. Can’t you read it in her eyes?” 

“Why—-why, Mahala Ann can’t bear me,” said 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


271 


Lige in utter stupefaction. “She told me t’other 
day that if the likes of me ever popped the question 
to her she’d never stop running, and I told her I 
wouldn’t ask her—not even to have the fun of seeing 
her run like an old cow. Nothing would do her but 
a prince or a dook.” 

“Pshaw! A girl as fond of the men as Mahala is, 
generally gives up her lofty aspirations before she 
finds her prince,” said Tom, still implacable. “She 
would accept you in a minute if you had the sense to 
propose, but you don’t recognize a fine girl when you 
see her. I’ve been all over the country, as well as 
Europe and Australia, and I never saw a girl like 
Mahala. She’d make you a jewel of a wife.” 

“But—but, it’s Ruth I’m after,” blurted Lige, red¬ 
der than ever. 

“Ruth, my adopted sister. Well, the [very idpa!” 
exploded Tom, his scornful eyes traversing Lige’s 
unsymmetrical figure to the toes of his ample shoes. 
“She wouldn’t marry you if you had a million, and 
I shouldn’t permit it anyway, so there!” 

He brought down his fist upon the desk with 
terrific violence and continued rapidly: “Don’t you 
know old Rube Wattles is a desperate character 
and he’ll fill you full of buck shot if you ever go 
back there again without taking along his daughter 
as your wife?” 

“I w T ould much rather be shot full of holes with a 
Krupp gun than go back as her husband,” said 
Lige stubbornly. 

“Well, there’s just this about it, Lige Knaggs, 
you’ll marry the girl or have me to settle with,” 
said Tom, turning upon him a set, determined face. 
“I knew her when we were school children together 


272 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


and Yd willingly lose my life fighting to protect her 
good name.” 

“Why don’t you marry her yourself if you’re so 
keen to git her married off?” 

“Why, because—because, I’m in love with another 
girl! What in thunder is the matter with you! The 
idea of your asking me such an absurd question!” 

“But the gossips will soon git tired of talking and 
Mahala Ann will be the bell-sheep of the bunch a 
year from now—it alius happens that way,” said 
Lige, fumbling with the check Tom had handed to 
him. 

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, to show my good will 
for you and Mahala Ann,” continued Tom. 

“I hate to bribe a man to get him to open his eyes 
and see what a fool he is and what a good chance 
he i$ missing, but I’ll raise your wedding present 
another five hundred dollars.” 

“You couldn’t say a thousand, could you?” asked 
Lige eagerly, entirely forgetting himself. 

“Not another cent more,” replied Tom brusquely. 
“I’m surprised that you should be so mer¬ 
cenary; but I have no fear of your being unkind 
to Mahala, should .you succeed in winning her. 
When you get broken to the harness, you’ll go all 
right. Now, will you marry the brightest and most 
talented girl in Skowhegan or send her back in dis¬ 
grace?” 

“By Joe, I reckon I’ll take the risk, proyidin’ she’ll 
have me,” said Lige doggedly. “Mebbe you’d better 
go and tramp the gravel a leetle, so I’ll have 
smoother running.” 

“You can tramp gravel better than I can, Lige, 
for you’re used to it,” replied Tom greatly relieved. 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


273 


“You can’t make me believe you’re not man enough 
to win Maliala. I bet a horse you’re the only fellow 
in Skowhegan she’d have. Take her by storm and 



Tom's stratagem. 


she’ll be glad to give in. Now don’t make a laugh¬ 
ing stock of yourself any longer. It’s just a waste 
of time for you to hang after Ruth, for she doesn’t 
































274 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


want to marry you, and besides, she’s not the style 
of a girl you should mate with. Now run up and 
tell Mahala you want to talk to her and then take 
her out and treat her to ice cream or whatever she 
wants, and every once in a while squeeze her hand 
a little, and don’t you dare bring her back till you’ve 
won her consent, or you'll never hear the last of it. 
Remember that love like commercial pursuits re¬ 
quires a little strategy.” 

With this parting advice Tom left the room and 
joined the rest of the family who were getting ready 
for the Fair. 

“Go and call Mahala Ann, Ruth,” said Aunt 
Becky, busily engaged with her new gloves. 

“Mahala Ann and Lige are not going with us this 
morning, but we’ll see them at lunch,said Tom, so 
decisively no one dared to ask any questions, and 
the party soon started without them. 

Considerable ground was traversed on this occa¬ 
sion, as Tom insisted on renting roller chairs, and 
they were trundled along the wide thoroughfares 
and through the extensive buildings by boys in blue- 
gray uniforms. The sunken gardens were a mass 
of foliage and vari-colored flowers, while beds of 
pink hydrangeas, scarlet geraniums and purple 
pansies, dotted the green, rolling lawns and the 
sparkling torrent of the cascades and the placid 
waters of the lagoon were a source of pleasure and 
attraction to the visitors. The Ivory City was 
indeed ready for its guests and welcomed the multi¬ 
tude with flapping flags and bands of sweet music. 

As they moved along the broad avenue, where 
Brazil, Mexico and Siam were represented by 
structures notable for their grace and utility, and 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


m 


out upon the International Avenue where Italy, 
Austria, Great Britain, France, Belgium and other 
governments had erected artistic edifices to display 
their exhibits and afford shelter for their sons and 
daughters, Uncle Bob said impressively: 

“A feller kin ride and walk through this big fair 
till he gits string-halt and yet he can’t see a 
millionth part of the grand display.” 

“I wonder why so many people have to spile the 
effect of things by wearing smoked glasses,” said 
Aunt Becky. 



A fad no better than turned up trousers. 

“It’s a kind of a fad, just as it is for people to wear 
their sleeves rolled up all the time at summer 
resorts, or for dudes to have their trousers several 
times too large, just to make themselves ridiculous,” 
replied Tom. 

In the Government Building, the old man was 
amazed at a huge quadruped, possibly a relic of the 
reptilian age, and he broke forth enthusiastically: 

“Wouldn’t it be sport to go hunting fur a beast 




















































276 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



“Here's E Pluribus Unum," said Aunt Becky. 































( 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 277 

like that? They say it was unearthed in Colorado 
and it’s no w T onder that state was so long getting 
settled, if it had beasts like that running around. 
The very name of it is enough to scare even a snake 
charmer—Armored Dinosaur Stegosaurus Ungula- 
tus Marsh.” 

“Here is E Pluribus Unum,” said Aunt Becky, 
looking up. at a gigantic statue. “My, what a big, 
buxom strapper she must have been!” 

“And there is Laocoon,” said Ruth,, who had 
often read of the unfortunate character in her well- 
thumbed Virgil. “How the poor man must have 
suffered in the embrace of that terrible serpent, and 
how the two little boys seem to be struggling to 
get free!” 

“If all the men and boys could see that expressive 
figure, there wouldn’t be any more whisky and beer 
and cigarettes sold,” said Aunt Becky, who believed 
that the image was designed to teach a lesson in 
temperance. “Jist think of the thousands of male 
critters who are struggling in the toils of that ter¬ 
rible monster! Let’s don’t look at it any longer or 
I’ll dream of snakes all night.” 

Uncle Bob was much pleased with the United 
States Fishery Building, containing specimens of 
the finny tribes, of all sizes, shapes and colors of 
the rainbow, and with all pertaining to agricul¬ 
ture, horticulture and forestry, while Ruth, from 
an aesthetic standpoint, admired the lofty Louis¬ 
iana Purchase monument and the statuary which 
adorned the buildings in profusion, some of which 
gleamed as if wrought of beaten gold. 

They went through Jerusalem and became famil- 


278 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


iar with all its intricate streets and queer inhabit¬ 
ants, and here Tom bought some novelties in one 
of the bazaars. 

“This wailing wall in the outskirts of the town 
must have been a mighty good thing,” said Uncle 
Bob. “I think every town ort to have one and when 
anybody has a tale of woe to bore his neighbor with, 
he ort to be made to go to the wall and set on it 
till he gits through.” 

“Sich an idee!” exclaimed Aunt Becky, with 
contempt. “If we had one in Skowhegan you’d be 
setting on it half your time. How ridiculous that a 
feller had to go and set on a wall to wail!” 

“Mebbe it’s where they took babies that kept 
folks awake with the colic,” suggested Uncle Bob in 
evident earnestness. 

“Any Bible student ort to know that they didn’t 
have colic them days,” said Aunt Becky. “Neither 
did they have tuberculosus or appendicites, accord¬ 
ing to the Scriptures.” 

Having seen Jerusalem, they passed through a 
pretty Japanese tea garden, located upon a hill 
and at last came to the Boers and Britishs, who 
carried on a battle in the stadium each day, before 
thousands of spectators. 

“You couldn’t tell the English from the Dutch¬ 
men if it wasn’t fur their leggin’s,” declared Uncle 
Bob, after eyeing them intently for a few minutes. 
“The Boers wear leather and the others wear yarn 
stockin’s; but they’re a likely lookin’ lot of young 
fellers, and I’d like to take some of ’em back to work 
on my old homestead farm this summer.” 

The Philippine village, surrounded by a bamboo 
fence, where men and boys of varying shades of 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


279 


brown and yellow sported among the trees, almost 
entirely nude, shocked Aunt Becky, although she 
could not resist taking her place among the long 
line of curious gazers, and peeking through a hole 
in the fence, until the guard said she must hurry 
or else miss the big show. 



A place to chew the rag. 


“I think the United States bit off a purty big 
piece when she took the Philippines,” said Uncle 
Bob. “We can’t civilize ’em in three centuries or 
more.” 

“Then look at the parade grounds and you will, 
no doubt, change your mind, for some of them are 































































280 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


far more American than what is generally sup¬ 
posed,” laughed the roller boy, pointing to an open 
space, where a large concourse of people had gath¬ 
ered, and were vigorously applauding the drill of 
a troop of Filipino soldiers in natty uniforms, who 
moved with remarkable precision to the inspiring 
strains of “Columbia,” played by their own silver 
band. It was an imposing sight and not one false 
move or one lingering footstep marred the perform¬ 
ance. At the close, when the little black-eyed 
Filipinos, in their brown Khaki suits and broad 
hats, marched erectly away to “The Battle Hymn of 
the Republic,” protected by an American flag which 
waved majestically in the breeze, Uncle Bob cheered 
with the rest, and Aunt Becky wiped her eyes, 
bedimmed with patriotic tears. 

“Are you an expansionist, father?” asked Tom, 
with a merry twinkle in his eye. 

“Wal, a few years ago I was a radical anti-expan¬ 
sionist,” admitted the old gentleman. “I thought 
the government had all the territory it needed fur 
its people, and it ort not to look out fur new posses¬ 
sions till our own country was perfected. Didn’t 
believe we ort to spend four centuries raisin’ rich 
cream and then mix it in with some other nations’ 
skimmed milk. After seeing this drill and so many 
other things from across the sea, I realize that 
Uncle Sam is big enough and great enough to 
assume responsibilities, and now that we are recog¬ 
nized by the nations of the earth as a world power, 
it should be our mission to scatter the influence of 
Christianity, establish our commercial supremacy 
and relieve the oppressed, build up and disseminate 
the fruits of civilization wherever cruelty, ignorance 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


281 


and superstition exist; I shall never open my 
mouth against expansion ag’in.” 

The various Philippine government buildings were 
also a source of gratification to the patriotic Skow- 
heganites and Tom and Ruth spent a half hour 
admiring the paintings of Queen Isabella, King 
Alfonso, President Roosevelt, Secretary Taft, Gene¬ 
ral Lawton and a group of Moro warriors, the work 
of famous water-color artists. 

The display of German manufactures in the 
Liberal Arts building, from the costly wares of 
Dresden to the toys of Sonneberg, absorbed them 
for a long while, and finally they found themselves 
in a vast section, scented with bamboo and other 
aromatic woods, where Japan had made a mighty 
effort to show to the world the ingenious products^ 
of her handicraft. 

“Little Japan has done herself proud,” declared 
Aunt Becky, covetously peering at a collection of 
dainty blue dishes securely locked in an ornate 
china cabinet. 

“And poor old Russia’s stall is still vacant, 
although I hear she will make a sort of a display 
later on,” said Uncle Bob. “I don’t know what to 
think about that Japanese war. It looks as though 
things were going at sich a smart pace, we get the 
news several hours before it happens. One day Port 
Arthur is blowed to smithereens and the next day a 
half dozen or more warships are destroyed and as 
many are torpedoed and sunk.” 

“Are you for the Japs or the Russians, Father?” 
asked Tom. 

“Wal, I believe in siding in with the weak brother 
fighting for his freedom. The Japs have sprung 


282 


UNCLE BOB AND A UNT BECKY 




A visit to fair Japan. 








































































THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


283 


up like mushrooms. Thirty or forty years ago 
Japan was jist barely on the map and it’s only been 
about twenty years since they were recognized as 
a nation. The dodgasted little fellers are plucky 
and brave and have won the respect of the world in 
their fight with one of the greatest European pow¬ 
ers. I hope they’ll win out.” 

“We, as Americans should not forget the fact 
that Russia has always been our friend,” said Tom. 
“She sold to us, in preference to all other nations, 
the tract of land known as Alaska for $7,500,000, 
which at that time was thought by many of our 
people to be worthless. We have already realized 
$100,000,000 from the transaction and no one can 
estimate the hidden gold and mineral wealth still in 
the bowels of the earth. The time is near by when 
this far off territory will not only supply our home 
market from her wheat fields but the entire world. 

“In all our national calamities, Russia has always 
shown her willingness to aid us,” said Tom. “Be¬ 
sides she is a good purchaser of our home goods, 
especially farming implements. I believe nations 
like individuals should give credit where credit is 
due.” 

“Wal, I never could bear ’em since the Jewish 
persecution at Kishineff,” said Uncle Bob stoutly. 

“And some of them can’t bear us, because they 
think w^ are a nation of negro lynchers,” replied 
Tom. 

Another treat to them was the display of good 
Queen Victoria’s Jubliee gifts in the Hall of Con¬ 
gress, and after a walk through the Chinese village 
and Grant’s Log Cabin, they returned to the 
Southern Hotel for lunch. 


284 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Li ge and Maliala Ann were waiting for them in 
the parlor, sitting upon a tete-a-tete chair, appar¬ 
ently in the best of humor. 

“We’ve been waiting for you an hour,” cried 
Mahala Ann, jumping up and hastily arranging her 
dark top-heavy pompadour, which looked rather 
queer. “Oh, we’ve had the most trancendently gor- 



The impressive ceremony of Mahala Ann and Lige Knaggs. 

geous time! Speak up, Lige, and don’t sit there 
chewing your cud.” 

“Darn the luck! Mahala Ann and me hunted up a 
preacher and got married, and I suppose we’re open 
to congratulations,” stammered Lige, as red as a 
peony in full bloom. 







































THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


285 


“Married! Do you mean to say you got married 
and never even told us!” exclaimed Ruth, reproach¬ 
fully, although rejoicing inwardly at the disap¬ 
pearance of the menacing spectre that had dogged 
her for many days and nights. 

“To tell the truth, I didn’t know T I was to be mar¬ 
ried when I started out, but a person never knows 
what a calamity will fall upon him before the day 
is over,” continued Mahala Ann, giggling ab¬ 
surdly, while her friends congratulated them. “I 
never knew Lige was so devoted till he went for me 
this morning. No woman was ever courted so hard 
inside of an hour as I was and if I look untidy you 
must lay it all on him. I never dreamed of being 
his wife twenty-four hours ago, but I just couldn’t 
resist him. He threatened to take carbolic acid and 
hang himself and cut his jugular vein if I didn’t, 
so I thought it was my duty to save his life.” 

“But why didn’t you invite us all to the wedding?” 
asked Tom, laughing immoderately, as he jokingly 
attempted to kiss the bride and nearly twisted 
Lige’s horny hand out of shape. 

“We thought we’d git it off our minds and besides 
I don’t believe in long engagements anyway,” con¬ 
tinued Mahala Ann. “You know Lib Jones has been 
trying to get married for three years, but somebody 
in the family alius dies or something else turns up 
before she can get her invitations out, so I suppose 
she’ll continue to remain single all the remainder 
of her life, as chances aren’t so plenty when a girl 
reaches forty-two.” 

“We’ll have a big spread to celebrate the nuptials 
of Mr. and Mrs. Elijah Knaggs,” said Tom, almost 
beside himself with joy. 


N 


286 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“I don’t feel like I ever could eat another mouth¬ 
ful,” declared the bride. “Lige just simply blew 
himself, and I never was treated so lovely in my 
life. He must have spent at least forty cents on 
ice cream and kisses alone, and I know we ate 
two pounds of figs between us, to say nothing of 
hot peanuts, soda water and gum drops. Look at 
my engagement ring—isn’t it just too dear?” 

She held up a ring set with an extremely green 
emerald and Aunt Beck} 7 went into raptures over it. 

“It ort to be a purty good one, fur I laid out a 
dollar and a quarter to pay fur it,” said Lige, smil¬ 
ing generously. 

“Nobody asked what you paid for it,” snapped 
Mahala Ann. “I’ve got my marriage certificate in 
my satchel and it will do me worlds of good to take 
it around for all the old Skowhegan gossips to look 
at. I’m going to have it put in a gilt frame and 
hang it in our dining room.” 

“It’s too good for anything that Mahala Ann has 
found a mate,” said Uncle Bob. “We can all go 
back now to Skowhegan hitched up in pairs; but 
won’t Widow Slant be on her high hoss when she 
sees us cornin’ back home as if we had just come 
from fairyland. I reckon she will be disappointed. 
I promised to send her a beau by express.” 

“I don’t think she is so gone on men as all that,” 
said Aunt Becky. 

“Well, I don’t know,” replied Uncle Bob. “I 
heard her hollerin’ at the top of her voice in the 
back yard before we left, ‘I want a man, I want a 
man.’ ” 

“You mean she was singing, ‘I want a Mansion in 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 28 1 

\ 

the Sky/ ” said Aunt Becky. “You musn’t make 
light of sacred things, Bob Springer.” 

“Wal, I believe in tellin’ the truth whether it’s 
in the morning before dawn or after the sun has 
disappeared over the hills at night.” 

“Here’s a poem that Lige wrote to-day, and it’s 
strange that I never knew he Tvas such a literary 
man,” continued the bride, with great pride, display¬ 
ing a scrawl, which Tom read aloud with some 
difficulty: 

“There are gals of every size and style 
Assembled at this big Fair, 

From the cold north pole to the warm sea isle, 
A-flutterin’ everywhere. 

There’s the Geisha gal in her scanty clothes. 

And the thick-lipped Malay gal, 

And the Hottentot with her big, flat nose, 

And her skinny Hindu pal. 

There’s the Filipino, now our kin, 

Quite fur from a beauty prize; 

And the little squaw with her copper skin, 

And the Turk with her piercing eyes. 

The Circassian gal with her silky hair. 

The Boer in her sloppy shoes, 

And the Persian gal who is passing fair, 

And the Jap with her coy goo-goos. 

And the Chinese gals with their pigeon toes, 

And some from Korea, too; 

And the sawed-off, lop-eared Eskimos, 

And the black-eyed Russian Jew. 

There’s the languid, swarthy Spanish belle, 

And the fair Cuban, also, 

And the gay Parisian demoiselle. 

And the fat freak in the show. 

These are but a few about whom they sing— 

You kin toast ’em if you like; 

But Mahala Ann is the sweetest thing 
That ever came down the Pike.” 


288 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Now, isn’t that too dear!” exclaimed the bride. 
Here Lige has loved me from childhood and I never 
even gave him a chance to show it.” 

“Gosh! I don’t deserve much of the praise fur 
writin’ the poetry; I jist suggested it and Mahala 
Ann wrote it and put in the stops and metres,” 
said Lige modestly. 

“You’ll have to give your husband a few lessons 
on how to keep quiet at the right time,” said Bob, 
laughing heartily at Mahala Ann’s discomforture. 

The luncheon for six that followed was a very en¬ 
joyable affair, and early in the afternoon they set 
out to visit the Fair for the last time. 

Whether it was due to Uncle Bob’s excessive 
patriotism or Mahala Ann’s culture, the reader 
must decide, but since Lige’s marriage he had 
endeavored to show Mahala Ann and the rest of the 
party that he knew a few things as well as those 
who had been more highly educated. Passing the 
numerous pieces of statuary, Lige took occasion to 
demonstrate his wide historical knowledge. 

“Now there,” he said, pointing to the statue of 
Columbus, “is the greatest man that ever died. 
He sailed into Lake Champlain, and into the Gulf 
of Mexico, and then down the Mississippi, discov¬ 
ering America at Wisconsin.” 

Uncle Bob somewhat staggered at this display of 
learning, and a little, in doubt himself as to 
geographical names, did not dare to contradict him, 
and Mahala Ann was just far enough away not to 
hear the conversation. “Now there’s George Wash¬ 
ington, the greatest gineral that ever lived,” he con¬ 
tinued. “He fit the Battle of Waterloo; the Battle 
of Bunker Hill; the Battle of Trafalgar Square; and 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


289 


then he up and fit the whole Civil War, and I say 
deserves more credit for protecting his country than 
Columbus does for discovering it.” 

“You’re off on your topography, Lige,” said Uncle 
Bob, “he never fought in the Civil War at all. That 
was before your day, anyway, and what do you 
know about it?” 

“Well, he fit more battles than any other gineral 
- anyway,” said Lige. 

“I’ve seen so much of the Exposition, it’s all a 
jumble in my mind,” declared Mahala Ann ap¬ 
proaching them. “I ’wonder what exhibit each of 
us will remember longest?” 

“For my part, I have noted with especial interest 
the pains and expense put forth to show the public 
the various processes in all departments rather than 
the mere fruits of those processes,” said Tom. “To 
me the elaborate mining and machinery displays 
and the electrical building with its wonderful inno¬ 
vations has been the greatest inspiration.” 

“Wal, I liked the live stock exhibits,” said Uncle 
Bob, “and the cozy House of Hoo Hoo, where the 
men set and tell yarns something like we do in Hi 
Pratt’s barn on a rainy day; also the bell boy drill 
at the Inside Inn and the baby incubators on the 
Pike. I’ve heard of chicken incubators, but never 
knew they had invented ’em to hatch babies. Uncle 
Jasper, the colored preacher, was right when he 
said, ‘The world does move.’ ” 

“I was interested in the canned goods,” added 
Aunt Becky, “and the fine dishes and the wireless 
telegraphy tower, and the poultry farm and them 
little electrical cameras that take your picture fur 
a nickel. When the little bell rung, I thought I’d 


290 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


cracked the glass sure, but there was my likeness 
jist as natural as life.” 

“Ok, I doted on the gorgeous Parisian gowns,” 
gushed Makala Ann; “and the physical culture 
building and the athletic grounds and the life sav¬ 
ing exhibit and the aeronautic concourse and the 
Morocco Palace and the Wisconsin State Building, 
where all those handsome men were sitting out on 
the piazza smiling at me when Ruth and I passed 
by.” 

“The sculpture and the architecture and the 
paintings delighted me,” said Ruth. “But what 
pleased me most were the booths of the publishers, 
filled with beautifully illustrated books, almost too 
dainty to handle. It seems to me that the art of 
book making, printing and color processes have 
made the most rapid strides of all, and that the 
public is becoming educated to appreciate the very 
best. My sympathy is with the busy publisher and 
the tireless writer, and to me the newspaper is the 
most wonderful and useful of all man’s creations.” 

“And what made the biggest impression on you, 
Lige?” asked Uncle Bob. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the bridegroom. “I 
guess it was the eatin’ houses. I was jist wishing. 
I could stay long enough to eat a square meal in 
each one of ’em.” 

“Then you’d have to stay alone, for it would take 
two months, at least, and you’d have fatty degen¬ 
eration before you got around,” said his wife. 
“Your table manners would be worse than ever by 
the time you got through with them Mexican end 
Philippine restaurants. Our teacher in domestic 
science used to tell us girls never to marry a man 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


291 


until we had observed his table manners, for nothing 
was more degenerating than to sit at the breakfast 
table for the rest of our lives facing a man who let 
loose on a pile of grub like he was a potato bug 
exterminator. She told us never to marry a man, 
no matter if he had a million, till we had tested his 
table manners with a cream puff when he was 
ravenously hungry.” 

“Pooh, anybody could eat a cream puff; I could 
put a hull one in my mouth and swaller it at one 
gulp, and foller it up with a dozen more at one 
settin’,” said Lige proudly. 

Tom, in spite of Aunt Becky’s remonstrances, pur¬ 
chased tickets for a trip over the realistic scenic 
railway. The entrance was as crowded as a depart¬ 
ment store during a bargain sale and the gate 
keeper kept pushing back their patrons until 
Mahala Ann threatened to faint. 

When they were seated in couples in a long, 
narrow car and started on their journey down 
precipitious slopes and through dark tunnels, Tom 
yelled at the top of his voice, according to the pre¬ 
vailing custom, while his poor mother trembled and 
ducked and prayed that they might be delivered 
from death in such a worldly place. 

“Oh, this is awful—this is terrible! shrieked sen¬ 
sational Mahala Ann, clinging close to her husband 
for the first time, although he was too much fright¬ 
ened to enjoy it. “If I ever get out alive, Fll keep 
out of these whirly-gigs in the future!” 

“Whoopy!” cried Uncle Bob, waving his hat. 
“This is delightful, and its funny how it affects 
people so differently, It’s jist like a ride in an air 


292 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



First experience down the Chute. 









THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


293 


ship. We go up like a sky rocket and come down 
like a failin’ met’or.” 

Ruth remained very quiet, soothed by Tom, who 
held her hand tightly and sat closer than was really 
necessary. 

When the car reached the terminus of its circui¬ 
tous route, Mahala Ann, with both her snaky arms 
entwined about the sunburned neck, of her spouse, 
was the last to get out. 



Pike beauties in short skirts. 

“Oh, let’s have another one,” she gurgled. “It 
isn’t so bad after you get used to it.” 

“You’ll have all the excitement you want after 
you’ve been married a year,” said Uncle Bob grimly. 
“Let’s git out and keep moving. I’ve got my mouth 
puckered up fur pop-corn or a pipe, I can’t tell 
which.” 






















294 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“We’ll have an orange lemonade,” said Lige, lead¬ 
ing the way down stairs. “Tom give us a bridal 
luncheon and it’s my dooty to return the compliment 
and treat the bunch.” 


When they had quenched their thirst at an adjoin¬ 
ing stand, they entered the Russian Theatre, the 
audience of which was as interesting in its cosmo- 



Uncle Bob in danger of apoplexy. 


politan aspect as the stage full of buxom Slavic 
beauties in short skirts and pink stockings. 

When the Cossack soldiers executed their fanciful 
dances and the chorus girls whirled around, shouted 
and smiled at the omnipresent baldheaded row, 
Aunt Becky hid her face in shame. 










THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


295 


“Sich perniciousness!” she groaned. “I never have 
been to an opery in my life and I never want to go 
to another one.” 

When the chorus sang with remarkable vehe¬ 
mence and sweetness the Russian National Hymn, 
supplementing it with “The Sar Spangled Ban¬ 
ner,” during which rendition a fat girl appeared 
wrapped in an American flag, while the entire caste 
sank to their knees, holding up their arms in adora¬ 
tion, Uncle Bob cheered until his wife feared he 
would succumb to apoplexy. 

“Pm a pro-Russian now!” he exclaimed. “If the 
Russians feel that kind to Old Glory, Urn never 
going to knock ’em ag’in. The Russian women are 
a turnal sight purtier than the Japs anyway and 
that cute, leetle bunch they say used to be a favorite 
of the czar, is a crackerjack!” 

The Tyrolean Alps with its great beer garden and 
concert hall and its colored fountains of remark¬ 
able beauty, took up another hour of their time. 
After ascending through picturesque scenery to the 
summit of the crags, they were told by a guide that 
they could not descend without sliding down the 
steep incline, which resembled the smooth bannis¬ 
ters boys delight so much to ride upon. 

“I kin never in the world git down these,” quav¬ 
ered Aunt Becky. “I wonder what kind of a mix up 
you will get me into next.” 

“I’ll git on first,” said Uncle Bob with youthful 
nerve, “and Ruth, you can sit on sidewise and hold 
to me—around the neck if you want to—then Lige 
and Mahala, and let Tom and mother come last so 
she won’t feel the force of a possible collision.” 

They were soon seated and clinging together, they 


296 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


began their steep descent like a great human centi¬ 
pede, a guard standing at the foot of the highly- 
polished slide to stop them. All might have landed 
safely had not the bride grown hysterical and 
thrown up her arms with a loud scream, unseating 
Lige and wrenching Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky 
from their treacherous positions so that the four 
rolled to the bottom in promiscuous confusion, 
shrieking in every range of the bass and treble clefs. 

“Are you hurt, mother?’’ cried Tom anxiously, 
after he had picked her up and stood brushing the 
saw dust from her black dress. 

“No, but I’m dreadful shook up. I’d like to spank 
that Mahala Ann,” replied Aunt .Becky angrily, in 
a low voice. “I’d lose my reason if I had to live 
with her another week.” 

“I couldn’t help it,” said Mahala Ann, straight¬ 
ening her hat. “I thought what a terrible thing it 
would be if Lige got caught by a splinter and maybe 
hurt himself, and I just had to scream. I’m awfully 
sorry, but I can’t get over being nervous any more 
than one can. avoid being near sighted.” 

After visiting the Irish Village, where they saw 
Blarney Castle and a good Hibernian vaudeville 
performance, they made their way through the 
dense crowd to the Observation Wheel, beset by 
carriages, automobiles, roller and Sedan chairs, 
guide-book sellers in scarlet uniform and a series 
of fakirs who were filling their pockets with the 
dimes and quarters of an extravagant people bent 
upon having a good time. 

“I’m mortal afeared to go up in that big wheel,” 
said Aunt Becky, gazing at its dizzy summit, with 
frightened eyes. “Don’t you remember how one of 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


297 


them Ferris wheels got stuck in Earl’s Court, Eng¬ 
land, a few years ago, and the people had to stay 
penned up in the cars all night? They had to send 
telegrams to their families and hadn’t nothin’ to 
eat but buns until the sailors dumb up and gave 
them doughnuts. The owners of the wheel had to 
give ’em five pounds apiece to keep ’em from suing 
them for damages.” 

“There ain’t no danger, Becky,” insisted Uncle 
Bob. “If the management don’t get us down in 
proper time, right side up, I’ll go after ’em and give 
’em a hundred pounds apiece, and I won’t be parti¬ 
cular where I hit ’em, either.” 

They were ushered into one of the cars and were 
soon hoisted to the summit, where they could look 
down upon the great Ivory City in all its brilliant 
beauty, and the mpre enduring thoroughfares of 
St. Louis, then the busiest and most festive spot 
on earth. 

In some inexplicable manner, Lige and his bride 
who had stopped to look at a minature locomotive 
and train of cars, after they had alighted from the 
wheel, lost the rest of the party. They wandered 
for some time in search of them, but gave up in 
despair and sought consolation in a light lunch at 
the Nebraska Coffee House, after which they 
strolled back into the forest where they sat for 
several hours planning their future and enjoying the 
sylvan solitude and cool breezes. They did not 
observe the palaces in the distance, as they burst 
into a glare of electric light, and when they 
emerged from their retreat, not a soul could be 
seen, not even a guard in red or blue or gray or 
brown. For a while they groped around in unfre- 


298 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


quented byways until the lights w’ent out, leaving 
them in utter darkness. 

“We’re lost, as sure as I’m a foot high,” said Lige 
in consternation. “I thought I could guide myself 
from that big bird cage, but I don’t see any way 
out.” 

“You mean the aviary of the Smithsonian Insti¬ 
tution; but you might just as well try to find a 
needle in a haystack,” declared his trembling wife. 

“I reckon we can tramp along awhile and if we 
don’t run acrost somebody, I kin holler loud enough 
to raise the dead,” said Lige, at the same time 
sprawling over a bed of petunias and pulling Ma- 
hala Ann with him. 

“This is awful!” she wailed, scrambling to her 
feet and again seizing his arm. “What if we should 
be held up or murdered by some of those wild tribes 
on the Pike?” 

“Who goes there!” 

The stentorian voice proceeded from the bushes 
that were unusually dense in the darkness, and soon 
after a bulky figure was seen, towering above them 
on the summit of the hill, blocking the passageway. 

For a moment Lige’s knees clashed together like 
cymbals, but his wife, although still more fright¬ 
ened, was not deprived of the use of her tongue, and 
she responded bravely: 

“We’re lost, sir, and we can’t find our way out.” 

“It’s after eleven o’clock and you’re liable to be 
arrested for being on the grounds!” was the thund¬ 
erous response. 

“We—we belong to the big hotel just inside of 
the grounds,” she stammered, trembling at her 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


299 


falsehood as well as the formidable creature whose 
outlines still remained indistinct. 

“Then go right along this path and turn to your 
left,” replied the apparition. “Hereafter when a 
watchman asks who you are, just say ‘Friends.’ ” 

Greatly relieved, they hurried past their distur¬ 
ber, but Mahala Ann, whose fright suddenly gave 
way to anger, shouted bravely back at him: 

“It’s funny that people have to stop at the big 
tavern inside of the grounds in order to be friends! 
The idea of you yelling that way at a woman, just 
as though it was any of your business who it was 
that went there! I want you to know I am Rube 
Wattles’s daughter of Skowhegan, and I’m respect¬ 
able even if I do happen to be lost while walking 
around in this wilderness with my new husband.” 

When they reached the big hotel, a bell boy took 
them to the exit, where Lige thanked him cordially, 
to the disgust of the lad, who expected a nickel. 
After waiting a few minutes, the car they desired 
pulled up in front of the entrance and they were 
taken back to the Southern Hotel, with no other 
annoyances to mar the eve of their honeymoon. 

In the meantime the Springer family, thankful 
to be alone again, ate dinner in the Model Kitchen 
and spent the early evening visiting various places 
of amusement. 

“So we are to leave this delightful city of pleasure 
tomorrow,” said Ruth regretfully, as she and Tom 
sat for some time upon a bench in a secluded bower, 
looking at the buildings and grounds effulgent with 
myriads of lights, yellow, white and red, while a 
band in a pavilion a few hundred feet away played 
sentimental airs from “The Bohemian Girl.” 


300 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Yes, I am sorry to leave so soon, but I have 
some important business in Denver and San Fran¬ 
cisco, and I thought you, mother and father would 
like to go with me through the wonderful West.” 

“Oh, Tom, do you really mean it? Won’t that be 
delightful! I can never, never repay you for your 
kindness to me,” said Ruth gratefully. 

“You can repay me a thousand-fold within the 
next five minutes if you only will,” replied Tom, 
drawing closer and taking her hand, not with the 
cringing obsequiousness of Lige Knaggs, but with 
a manly firmness that fascinated rather than awed 
her. 

“Ruth, from the very first moment I saw you— 
even before I heard you speak a word—I felt for 
you the admiration no other girl has ever inspired,” 
he continued, bending down so close his beard 
touched her cheek. “That feeling has developed 
into love, so pure, so steadfast, so far-reaching, that 
my wealth, my pride, my vaunted bachelor freedom 
are as nothing in comparison. You seem to tremble 
and your hand is cold—you cannot speak! I hope 
there is no other who claims your affection, and 
that you are willing to be more than a sister to me. 
Let me enfold you with my great love, and let us 
continue the journey of life together.” 

Resting her head upon her hand, Ruth seemed to 
be engaged in prayer. Then she replied with an 
assumption of dignity, although her heart was over¬ 
flowing with happiness: 

“Oh, Tom, do you realize what you are saying? 
Do you think I could make you happy, you who have 
seen so much of the world? Are you sure you have 
found the right one?” 


THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE 


301 


“I can truthfully say, Ruth, that I have never 
loved until I met you. Like a rolling stone, I have 
wandered far and near, and have seen beautiful 
women in every clime; but none that can compare 
with my little Ruth. I have carefully and thought¬ 
fully considered the matter. Will you be my wife?” 

Glancing up into his large blue eyes, Ruth mod¬ 
estly whispered, “If you are sure I can make you 
happy—yes.” 

The words had hardly left her lips when Tom 
drew from his pocket a beautiful diamond engage¬ 
ment ring, and slipping it upon her finger, said: 

“May our love be as endless as this circle, and as 
pure and sparkling as this diamond.” 

Filled with the ecstasy of first love and emotion, 
he threw his arms about her, and pressed her to 
him, showering kisses upon her cheeks and lips. 

“I must confess that love-making is an art that 
I have not yet had the opportunity of cultivating,” 
laughed Ruth, although tears glistened in her eyes. 
“I always admired you,” she continued, with a seri¬ 
ous expression upon her face. “As soon as I was 
old enough to know that you had gone out into the 
world to make your fortune, I began to weave a 
romance about you. All these years your picture 
has been hanging on the wall in my room in a 
wreath of Love Everlasting. Somehow I had a 
presentiment that you would return. My prayers 
have been answered.” 

When Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky appeared a half 
hour later, the lovers sat hand in hand, too much 
absorbed in their own happiness to take further 
interest in the triumph of art and nature all about 
them, although the band played Lohengrin’s Wed- 


302 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


ding March, and hundreds of sky-rockets filled the 
heavens and showered the ivory fairyland with mil¬ 
lions of dazzling jewels. 



Fate decides Ruth and Tom's destiny. 


To them the past was nothing and the present was 
but the beginning of their existence; but the future 
seemed to stretch away in infinite space before 
them, radiant with the sunshine of eternal love. 



































joined him in the parlor on the following morning, 
very sweet and lovely in a brown walking suit that 
accentuated the color of her eyes. “You look charm¬ 
ing to-day. I wonder why it is that some girls may 
dress ever so plainly and yet have style, while others 
spend fortunes on dresses and fixings and always 
look dowdy. You have admirable taste, little mod¬ 
est Marguerite.” 

“You are a flatterer and a deceiver,” declared 
Ruth, although she dimpled and blushed with pleas¬ 
ure. “You can’t be sincere when you compare me 
to a rose and a Marguerite in the same breath.” 

“You are both—you are a veritable flower garden 
in yourself, as blooming as an American Beauty 
just now, although you were like an unobtrusive 
Marguerite when you first came in. You are modest 
as the daisy, as constant as the violet, as pure as 
the lily and your eyes are like stars.” 

“I must be a paragon if you can’t find enough 
flowers with which to compare my virtues and phy¬ 
sical charms and have to seek assistance from the 

303 

* » 


304 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

stellar system,” replied Ruth, blushing still deeper 
as he took her shapely hand with the gallantry of 
a knight of old and kissed it reverently. 

“If you will only give me time, I can prove that 
my praises are ali sincere. I hope you haven’t re¬ 
gretted your promise, little one, now that you 

have had time to sleep 
over it,” said Tom, 
looking at her with 
adoring eyes as she 
seated herself upon a 
Roman chair and rest¬ 
ed her arms akimbo. 

“I didn’t sleep at 
all,” she replied, with 
the semblance of a 
pout. “I tossed all 
night hnd thought it 
over and tried to pene¬ 
trate the hazy future 
with my little feeble 
ray of reason, and— 
well, I don’t know 
whether it would be 
for the best or not. 
You have seen so 
much of the world and 
are so wise and cul¬ 
tivated and I am just a, stupid little country girl 
and can’t do anything but cling and trust.” 

“I hope you may always feel that way. I know 
I am much older than you, but I believe we shall be 
happy together so long as you are willing to cast 











TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 305 

your lot with one so humble as myself. We’ll go 
back to spend the summer at Skowhegan and then 
go to New York for the winter, where my business 
takes me.” 

“And I shall have to give up my one ambition to 
teach school,” she said, with a sigh of resignation. 
“From a little tot it has always been my supreme 
wish to instruct the young, for next to motherhood, 
the life of a conscientious school teacher is the 
most sacred. They don’t get half the praise they 
deserve.” 

“No, nor half the salary either,” replied Tom 
earnestly. “Well, you can conduct a private school 
and arrange the curriculum and classes to suit 
yourself.” 

She looked at him askance, dimpling with an in¬ 
credulous smile that drove him to distraction. 

“On one condition—and that is, you are to take 
but one pupil, your husband, to teach and torment 
and torture and terrify until he meets your ap¬ 
proval.” 

“That will be nice,” she said, with a smile of un¬ 
mistakable happiness. “I shall be most severe at 
times, but I shall do my very best until the end, 
no matter how bent and bald and toothless my 
pupil becomes.” 

“But don’t speak of the end, lambkin,” pleaded 
Tom, with a sudden look of pain. “My life has been 
so full of painful vicissitudes, so busy and full of 
anxiety so long, that I pine for sweet rest in the 
haven of matrimony for the remainder of my life.” 

She was not permitted to reply, for with the boy¬ 
ish impulsiveness that had always characterized 
him, he suddenly rose, and bending over kissed her 


306 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

passionately, this time upon her upturned mouth; 
then he looked around to see if his act had been 
witnessed. 

“Why, Tom Springer, you’re jist like your paw 
fur all the world!” exclaimed Aunt Becky, who had 
arrived in time to witness the befitting but uncon¬ 
ventional climax. He alius needed watching when 
a purty gal was around, although he never misbe¬ 
haved in a public place like this.” 

“A fellow has a right to be affectionate with his 
little adopted sister, hasn't he?” asked Tom, en¬ 
circling his mother with his brawny arms and giv¬ 
ing her a kiss almost as affectionate. 

“He sartinly has,” replied the old lady, tears 
filling her eyes, as she looked up lovingly into his 
face. “It seems like old times to be with you ag’in, 
sonny. You was alius so affectionate. Bob’s been 
a kind, faithful husband, but he never thinks of 
kissing me since I’ve got old and humlv, yet it makes 
me happy when he jist squeezes my fingers a leetle 
or bumps foreheads with me to tease me. People 
never ort to git too old to be affectionate, and it 
ain’t no harm to show it—but how do I look?” 

“You look stunning, mother,” replied Tom, turn¬ 
ing her around as if she were a model on a 
pivot. “You’ll soon be as swagger as the best of 
them. Now that fortune has dealt kindly with us I 
mean to see that you and father will have every 
comfort that money will buy. Clothes chosen and 
worn with good taste have much to do with one’s 
appearance and happiness.” 

At that moment Uncle Bob entered, sleek and 
rotund in a new suit of clothes, a gray Fedora hat, 


TOWARD TEE SETTING SUN 307 

a bright tie and shoes that creaked in the delicious- 
ness of a smart shine. 

“Oil, Uncle Bob, you look like a nabob!” cried 
Ruth, throwing off her embarrassment and rushing 
into his arms to give him a robust hug and kiss on 
his happy, ruddy cheek. 

“Wal, I feel sort o’ like a thin woman that pads 



Uncle Bob's Transformation. 


and knows that everybody is on to it; but it’s ail 
Tom’s doings, and 1 s’pose I’ll git used to it,” replied 
the old man, returning the kiss with deafening 
enthusiasm. 

“The Lord has been good to us,” declared Aunt 
Becky fervently. “I thought it would be His will 
to bring us all together here in St. Louis and I 

































308 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


have prayed fur it ever since we left Skowkegan. 
If I hadn’t so much faith in prayer I’d never con¬ 
sented to have the old homestead mortgaged.” 

“Yes, you were guided by Divine Providence,” 
said Tom. “I was seized with a desire to visit the 
Fair and then to make good my resolve made twenty 
years ago to return to Skowkegan. I know my ab¬ 
sence must have caused you many nights of anxiety, 
and often my heart ached to see you and father 
and the old homestead once more, but I was spurred 
on to accomplish my ambitious dream. Y T ou remem¬ 
ber, mother, on the bright May morning many years 
ago that I made up my mind to leave home, you told 
me not to come back until I could amount to some¬ 
thing. But don’t cry, for that mandate of yours was 
the making of me, and I know how it hurt you to 
give it. I went out in the world to fight life’s bat¬ 
tles, and although they were severe ones, Fortune 
smiled on me after all and enabled me to make 
enough to keep you all comfortable as long as you 
live. It was the doings of Providence and I owe it 
all to my dear mother.” 

He embraced her again and for a few minutes 
she wept, half remorsefully, half gratefully, upon 
his breast. 

“Now cheer up, for there’s another surprise for 
you,” he said soothingly. <r You must congratulate 
yourself upon bringing up a girl in accordance with 
my most approved methods. In Ruth Burton I 
have found the ideal I have hunted for all these 
years. She lias consented to be more than an 
adopted sister to me—she will be my wife.” 

“Oh, Tom, is it possible!” said Aunt Becky. 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


309 


“Little did I think such happiness was in store 
for me when I left far-off Australia,” continued the 
long-lost son. 

For a few moments the effervescing joy of the old 
couple manifested itself in congratulations and 
kisses, and never did four hearts beat in more happy 
unison. 

In the midst of their love feast, Lige Knaggs and 
his wife of a night entered, the latter wearing a 
white hat, such as has been used by brides ever 
since feminine apparel came in fashion. 

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Knaggs,” cried Tom 
banteringly. “I hope you rested well.” 

“There isn’t no rest for me till I git back to Skow- 
hegan and put those atrocious gossips to shame,” 
said Mahala Ann. “I return as an honorable mar¬ 
ried woman instead of a maligned spinster, any¬ 
way.” 

“And it will be a good joke on them,” said Tom, 
with another laugh of sheer amusement, for Lige 
was too conscious to do anything but look red and 
awkward, and Ruth’s searching brown eyes made 
him vastly uncomfortable. 

“You’ll be carried around on a chip when you get 
back and you can give little tete-a-tetes at the 
Woman’s Club, where you can tell all about your 
and Lige Knaggs little jaunts. 

“Why don’t you tell ’em the news?” asked Uncle 
Bob, looking at Tom with glistening, animated eyes. 

“There’s nothing to tell 5 just now,” replied Tom 
evasively. “Just tell the people we’ll be back in two 
weeks and give a housewarming that will make 
the old homestead ring with joyous laughter just 
like it used to in the old days. We’ll telegraph you 


BIO 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the exact day and hour we expect to arrive, and 
Mrs. Knaggs, I hope you will have a dinner pre¬ 
pared such as only the daughters of Skowhegan 
know how to get up.” 

“That I will,” replied Mahala Ann, blushing 
broadly when her eyes fell upon her husband and 
his white string tie and red geranium boutonniere. 

After a breakfast of surpassing excellence, 
where humor and merriment were the principal rel¬ 
ishes, there was another skirmish for satchels, suit¬ 
cases and packages, and the sextette took an om¬ 
nibus for the Union Depot. 

“It’s a shame we have to leave St. Louis before 
you do, Lige,” said Tom, after he had purchased his 
tickets for Denver and returned to where the little 
group of old friends were chatting vociferously. “If 
you left town first, we’d pepper you with rice, but 
unfortunately* our train leaves two hours earlier.” 

“Dang it! I’d jist as leave wait here with no one 
but Mahala Ann,” replied Lige-, flushing to the tip of 
his shiny nose. “I hope you’ll be as lucky as I am 
about gitting a good wife, Tom. I alius liked Ma¬ 
hala Ann ever since we used to play tag together at 
recess time, but I never could git up the nerve to 
pop the question.” 

“And so you eloped with her,” thrust Aunt Becky 
a trifle spitefully. “Well, I’d like to see them gos¬ 
sips at Skowhegan eat their lies when you git back. 
I bet the boys’ll give you a bellin’ and the paper will 
be full of it. Don’t furgit to send us one, Mahala. 
Where in the world is Bob? I have to watch him 
every minute or he’ll git into mischief.” 

A searching squad was about to be organized, but 
such a step proved unnecessary, as the happy old 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


311 



(jetting ready to cross the continent. 





















































































312 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


man hove in sight a few minutes later, smiling 
benignly. * 

Simultaneously the west bound train was an¬ 
nounced and fond good-byes and congratulations 
were exchanged. 

“Mahala, jist take charge of the house like it was 
your own,” said Aunt Becky, kissing the bride 
warmly. “Don’t furgit to have beet pickles and 
dried apple pie with sugar on it when we come 
home, for Tom alius liked them things, if he hasn’t 
outgrowed ’em.” 

“Yes and invite in the hull neighborhood and let’s 
have a reg’lar hullabaloo of a time,” said Uncle 
Bob, likewise kissing her warmly. 

When Lige rather sheepishly shook hands with 
Ruth, something in his manner struck a chord of 
sympathy within her gentle bosom, and forgetting 
all her former repugnance for him, she said warmly: 

“Goodbye, Lige, and may you ever be hajjpy. I 
thank you for all your kindness to Uncle Bob and 
to—to me. It shall not go unrewarded. You have 
won a girl who I hope will make you a suitable wife 
and you must always be good to her.” 

He did not reply, but his homely face paled per¬ 
ceptibly as he held the warm hand of the beautiful 
girl, who had been his inspiration ever ^ince he first 
saw her making snowball wreaths in the little 
sunflower forest of the Springer garden, where she 
reigned as queen during many a long summer after¬ 
noon. 

“Now we’re off fur Denver, the city a mile in the 
sky!” cried Uncle Bob, when they had been ushered 
into the luxurious Pullman car, whose elegance 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


313 


awed the old couple and made them uncomfortable 
for a few minutes. 

The morning passed pleasantly to the four trav¬ 
elers, and they amused themselves as suited their 
fancy. Uncle Bob and Tom spent some time in the 
cozy smoking room, where the former puffed a hand¬ 
some meerschaum pipe presented to him by his son, 
and the latter read the newspaper and talked of the 
old home and childhood friends, but principally 
about his little fiance. Aunt Becky ventured to 
sew, but gave it up and begged Ruth to lay down 
the Pocket Guide and Time Saver she had been 
reading. 

“I shall never forget the great Fair at St. Louis,” 
said the girl, closing the book and putting it neatly 
away among her treasures. “No winder it takes 
columns and columns of space to tell about it in 
the newspapers and yet the half can’t be told. I 
hope all people who visit it and meet old and be¬ 
loved friends will enjoy it as much as we did.” 

“Yes, after all, them are the main things,” said 
Aunt Becky, thoughtfully. “It beats all what a 
person will be led into jist fur the sake of the asso¬ 
ciations; still I hain’t got a bit of use for them frail 
critters that gits led into evil places, somehow or 
other. I s’pose it’s natural fur a respectable woman 
to feel that way.” 

Her moralizing was interrupted by a roar of 
laughter from the smoking room, and presently Tom 
appeared, followed by Uncle Bob, both of them 
shaking with amusement. 

“Gracious, what’s the matter?” asked the old lady 
indulgently. “Has your old paw been putting non¬ 
sense in your head, Tom?” 


314 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“No, but lie’s still a game one all right,” laughed 
her son. “Did you know he decorated the trunk 
Lige Knaggs bought for himself and wife yester¬ 
day—tied streamers to the handles and tacked 
placards all over it, which read: ‘This is a green 
pear jist married/ ‘Here comes the bride/ and ‘One 
trunk is now enough fur two.’ Read the verse you 
tacked on, father.” 

Uncle Bob, still heaving ponderously, took from 
his pocket a crumpled bit of paper and read: 

“The Skowhegan gossips will please change their song. 

Fur these fancy placards and rags 
Proclaim that aforesaid have did a great wrong 
To Lige and Mahala Ann Knaggs.” 

“My land, Bob, Mahala Ann’ll never furgive you 
as long as she lives,” said Aunt Becky fearfully, al¬ 
though Ruth seemed to enjoy the joke hugely. 

“She’s so glad to git a man, she’ll be willing to 
stand the notoriety of it all right,” said Uncle Bob, 
“I sent a telegram to Hi Pratt that they were mar¬ 
ried and on their way home, and I bet they’ll git one 
of the all-firedest bellin’s anybody ever had. They’ll 
treat ’em like they did old Hank Spencer and Cor- 
deely Butters, when they ran off to Plainville to git 
jined. Don’t you remember, Becky, how they met 
’em at the depot and the brass band played, ‘Dar¬ 
ling, I Am Gittin’ Old/ and they hauled ’em down 
the street in a dray, and how cussed mad Cordeelv 
was?” 

“Yes, and it was a shame, too,” declared Aunt 
Becky stoutly. “Th'ev run it jist a leetle bit too fur 
when they throwed water on ’em and ’most ruined 
Cordeely’s bonnet. Sich things are out of place and 
I hope they won’t treat Lige and Mahala Ann that 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


315 


way. Like as not some of the fellers that don’t like 
her singing will take their spite out on poor Lige, 
and he’s so fearful slow he can’t take his part a bit. 
My land, he’s so dull of comprehension he fell 
through a trap-door one day and Widder Slant said 
he didn’t know it till they told him about it a half 
hour after.” 

“Wal, a leetle fun won’t hurt ’em,” replied Uncle 
Bob. When anybody sneaks off and gits married 
unbeknown to their friends, they ort to expect to git 
held up for targets when they git back. I’d like to 
help give ’em a good bellin’.” 

“Then I suppose Ruth and I will have to catch 
it when we get back to Skowhegan after our honey¬ 
moon,” said Tom with much seriousness. “I’m so 
much older than Ruth I s’pose they’ll have the band 
play ‘Darling, I Am Growing Old,’ too; and maybe 
ruin our health and wardrobes with water.” 

“Why; Tom, you ain’t in your prime yet and the 
band won’t play anything of the kind,” said Uncle 
Bob. “There’s jist a nice difference in your ages. 
You know they laughed when Chauncey Depew mar¬ 
ried a gal young enough to be his niece, and said 
he was robbing the cradle,* and now the Sunday pa¬ 
pers say how happy they are and how they lead the 
social procession in New York and Washington. 
They say the marriage made him younger and give 
her matronly dignity.” 

“Oh I know they’ll act horrid when I arrive home 
as Tom’s bride!” said Ruth, likewise feigning great 
concern. “Ili Pratt will shoot blank cartridges and 
they’ll throw tin cans and carrots, and yell, and 
drive us around in a dray, and some of the girls 
who used to snub me will be glad of a chance to 


316 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


watch my humiliation, and I s’pose you’ll help them, 
won’t you, Uncle Bob?” 

“I’ll be dodgasted if I will!” replied the old man, 
stamping his foot, while his face flamed with indig¬ 
nation. “If any man in Skowhegan says or does a 
thing to give either of you offense, I’ll thrash him 
to a pulp, sure as I’m a foot high! How dare they 
think of making sport of my son Tom and my leetle 
darter Buth that are both the apples of my eyes 
and the idol of our affection!” 

“Bob, remember the Golden Rule, to do unto 
others as you would be did by,” admonished Aunt 
Becky, while Tom and Ruth burst into laughter and 
the old man retreated to the smoking room, realiz¬ 
ing that he had been vanquished again. There he 
remained until dinner was brought by a porter and 
placed upon a little, portable table. 

His national pride again expanded when he saw 
Kansas City, holding her own with tremendous ex¬ 
pansiveness, fully as citified in appearance as St. 
Louis, and as they penetrated the vast wheat fields 
which spread in every direction to the blue horizon, 
he eulogized the state of Kansas, once the butt of 
jesters, but now raised to an exalted position among 
the western states. 

When the porter began making up the berths 
for the night, Aunt Becky watched with intense 
interest, and when his task was completed and the 
curtains drawn for them to enter, she rebelled just 
as she did when for the first time she saw the state¬ 
room of a lake steamer. 

“Land a gracious! these states-rooms ain’t as big 
as them on that ship we sailed on, coming to De¬ 
troit,” she exclaimed. “I believe I’d rather set up 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


317 


than run the risk of being smashed up in a wreck 
in one of them cubby-holes. The people don’t un¬ 
dress in the aisles, do they?” 

“Oh no, mother,” replied Tom, smiling at Ruth; 
“but in these little compartments it is quite an art 
to be able to disrobe without injuring yourself or 
being observed. With a little practice you will be¬ 
come accustomed to it. Most of the passengers 
dress and undress in their berths without any diffi¬ 
culty.” 

“And I s’pose the hammick at the foot is fur 
people that have children. My land, you couldn’t 
put a rolling-pin in it!” continued the old lady, with 
critical sarcasm. 

“The swinging nets are for such clothing and par¬ 
cels as people care to put in them,” replied Tom. 

“Wal, talk about gitting into tight places! I’d 
hate to have to sleep two in a bed, in one of them 
things. A fat old man with rheumatiz would feel 
sort o’ cramped,” said Uncle Bob, also struck with 
wonderment. 

“You don’t need to, for I’ve arranged to have 
mother occupy the lower berth and Ruth the one 
above and you and I will take the next section, and 
you can have the lower one if you prefer,” said Tom. 

“And any sneak-thief that passes kin reach in and 
help himself to our belongings,” persisted Aunt 
Becky. 

“Becky’s alius afeard someone’ll steal her 
switch,” laughed Uncle Bob. 

“I w T ish you’d stop twitting me about my switch 
all the time,” said his better half irritably. "It’s 
alius well to be keerful and I’d like to feel sure that 
I am safe from hold-ups and robbers when I’m in 


318 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


bed anyway,” replied his life-time companion. 

“When you get inside, you can fasten the cur¬ 
tains securely with these loops and buttons,” said 
Tom, showing how it was done. “The conductor 
and porter should be on watch all night, and in case 
of hold-ups we will all be warned in time.” 

After the usual exchange of kisses and good- 
nights, they retired and no more complaints were 
heard from the old couple, who soon succumbed to 
the soothing movement of the train. 

During the night Uncle Bob woke up, thirsty for 
a drink of water. Poking his head out of the berth 
and finding the coast clear, he started in the direc¬ 
tion of the gentlemen’s dressing-room. Returning, 
he found he had forgotten the number of his berth. 
What to do he did not know. Everything was quiet 
excepting for the occasional bass and tenor snore 
from some passenger who seemed to be enjoying 
“Nature’s sweet restorer,” sleep. 

Becoming thoroughly confused, Uncle Bob broke 
out, “Gosh, what shall I do!” 

Turning to the berth nearest to him, he sum¬ 
moned sufficient courage to draw aside the curtain 
and peek in. Glancing at a delicate feminine ankle, 
he hastily retreated. Thinking he must be near 
his own berth, he turned to the next one; but only 
to make another similar mistake. The form of the 
person that met his gaze seemed strangely familiar, 
and he was about to pull aside the curtains when 
caution prompted a more careful investigation. 
Bending over the woman who was quietly sleeping 
he peered into her face; but the features were not 
those of Aunt Becky. 

“Dodgast the luck!” exclaimed Uncle Bob. “There 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


319 



Becky! Tom! Tm lost! 


























































































































































320 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


must be all females on this train!” But before he 
could extricate himself the mischief had been done. 

Jumping up in her bed with a start, an old maid, 
who had attracted his attention during the day on 
account of her extremely homely appearance, 
glanced into the old 'farmer’s face with a look of 
horror, and shrieked, “Robbers, villains, kidnappers! 
conductor! porter! Come quick!” 

Frightened by this sudden outcry, Uncle Bob 
backed out with such force that he tumbled over 
into the berth opposite. As he fell, he caught hold 
of,one of the draperies in the vain hope of saving 
himself. It, however, gave way, revealing to 'the 
gaze of the now awakened and astonished passen¬ 
gers the ludicrous sight of a young bridal couple 
who had taken the train at the last station. 

“Lieber Gott, a wreck, a wreck!” cried the big, 
burly Dutchman, upon whom Uncle Bob had landed. 
In his fright he gave the old farmer a push that sent 
him into the middle of the aisle, where he stood in 
a gorgeous pink flannel night-robe that reached only 
to* the knees, shivering and shaking with chagrin 
and dismay. 

“Becky! Tom!” he shouted, at the top of his 
voice. “Dodgast the luck. I am lost and can’t 
find my w T ay back to that tarnal bunk. Becky, I say; 
Tom, stick your head out so that I won’t land in 
another old hen’s nest.” 

Aunt Becky, thoroughly alarmed by the confu¬ 
sion, looking out of her berth, discovered Uncle Bob 
who had been within a few feet of her during the 
entire scene. Catching sight of the familiar face, 
Uncle Bob fairly ran for shelter. Aunt Becky, seiz¬ 
ing him by the collar, pulled him into her berth. 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


321 


“For land’s sake, Bob Springer, what have you 
been up to now?” she cried. “You are always get- 
tin’ into some unaccountable trouble.” 

After an explanation of the mystery had been 
thoroughly understood, and all had enjoyed a hearty 
laugh at Uncle Bob’s expense, peace and quiet were 
once more restored. 

The fir.st glimpse of the Rockies in the distance 
was hailed with delight, and Aunt Becky, who had 
been for some time rapt in a deep study, turned 
inquiringly to her son. 

“Say, Tom, which one of them mountains is Den¬ 
ver on? Does the train go up to the top or will we 
be tuk up in an elevator, like we was at the hog¬ 
killing in Chicago?” she asked anxiously. 

“Denver is a mile above the sea level, but we 
have been gradually ascending that altitude ever 
since we left St. Louis,” replied Tom. “The train 
will soon arrive at the City of the Plains and a per¬ 
son who knew nothing about its lofty position would 
never think that the elevation was any higher than 
that of St. Louis, except that the air of Colorado is 
crisp and dry, while that of the Mississippi states 
is as thick as buttermilk.” 

When they reached Denver and saw the great 
depot with its capacious wings, it was Uncle Bob’s 
turn to be surprised again. 

“I expected to see a leetle log station with cow¬ 
boys and miners and drunken Indians hanging 
around,” he confessed. 

“You will be surprised at the metropolitan as¬ 
pect of the city,” said Tom, leading the way into 
the waiting-room. “The majority of the inhabitants 
are from the East, and she is just like an eastern 


322 UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 

city, except that she has a newer and more modern 
style of architecture. This was once a wild and law¬ 
less place, but it has been converted into a model 
municipality ruled by broadminded enlightened 
people with cultivated tastes. When Equal Suffrage 
was established, gambling houses w T ere closed down 
and Sunday was kept with a vengeance. They say 
they have a Women’s Club here that is second to 
none in the world and that department stores would 
rather suffer disastrous conflagrations than be boy¬ 
cotted by it. They are better versed in parliamen¬ 
tary law than the men. If I were a woman, I would¬ 
n’t live in any other city but Denver, for it is the 
only place where a woman is not only as good as a 
man, but a little bit better.” 

“Poor hen-pecked men!” sneered Uncle Bob, “I 
hear the women connive in politics just the same as 
the men and that a lot of the big politicians fawn 
around ’em and toady to ’em to git their votes, 
although they’d like to take the ballot away from 
’em if they could. When it comes to women prowl¬ 
ing around the poles and lobbying and making 
stump speeches, I draw the line. I heard once how 
a girl twenty-one years old ran ag’in two married 
men fur the office of county treasurer in western 
Colorado and although the men had fam’lies to 
support and the gal likely had a comfortable home 
and a father to keep her, she got the job. It’s easy 
enough fur the young fellers to hustle around fur a 
purty gal if she w T ants a position like that. In an¬ 
other Colorado city the mayor had to take a poor 
man off a garbage committee and put a millionaire’s 
wife on in his place, ’cause the Woman’s Club was 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


323 


set on it and wanted to be represented. Some day 
they’ll have a woman governor here and the poor 
men will be drove on top of Pike’s Peak or across 
the border into some other state.” 

“He dont’ mean a word he says, Tom,” said Aunt 
Becky, with apparent Christian resignation, al¬ 
though she longed to smite him. “He jist wants to 
argue and he thinks more of the women than ever. 
He likes to hector me and I ain’t going to fight with 
him. Why, if Mis’ Hoskins run fur constable in 
Skowhegan, he’d furgit all about his rheumatics and 
his sect notions trying to coax and bully everybody 
into voting for her. Women’s sphere has been ex¬ 
panded and I’m glad of it, but rather ashamed that 
the new West had to set the example. 

“A woman ain’t fit to vote!” cried Uncle Bob, 
much preferring stern rebuke to mild reproval. “A 
sartin Princeton tutor was logical w T hen he said a 
woman’s brain wasn’t as big as a man’s, conse¬ 
quently it couldn’t contain as much.” 

“How does it happen that so many idiotic people 
have big heads, some of ’em twicet too big fur their 
bodies? Does it look reasonable fur you to set up 
and say that is a sign of intelligence?” retorted 
Aunt Becky, growing wrathful in spite of her reso¬ 
lution to ignore his scathing calumny. “I don’t see 
how it toilers that a person kin think more with a 
big head than he kin with a leetle one any more 
than he kin walk further with big feet than leetle 
ones. Besides, if a man’s intellect is superior to a 
woman’s ’cause his head is bigger, then a cow must 
know a heap more than a man.” 

“Oh, Auntie, please let’s discontinue the argu¬ 
ment on Equal Suffrage, for we. are missing all the 


324 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


sights. Save your discussions till we get back to 
Skowhegan,” interrupted Kutli. 

“Land! I don’t propose to let my sect be run down 
by a man and anybody that says I don’t know as 
much as Bob Springer can go and hunt up my pedi¬ 
gree,” replied Aunt Becky, red with indignation. 
“Bob’s never been to a Female Suffrage meeting or 
he wouldn’t be so ignorant. Last August when the 
biennial meeting was held in Skowhegan, I never 
heard such papers read by women in all my life— 
some of ’em was forty and fifty pages long, and the 
men who come to sneer kept up a round of applause 
all the time.” 

“I s’pose they had to do it to keep awake,” 
chuckled the old man, immediately calling attention 
to some stately building. 

Seventeenth Street, the principal thoroughfare 
of the city, with its attractive architecture unsullied 
by coal dust and undimned by the ravages of fre¬ 
quent rains, was to them an inspiring sight, and 
when they entered the Brown Palace, with its 
bronze and onyx interior, one of the most beautiful 
hotels upon the American continent, Uncle Bob 
again launched forth upon a patriotic eulogy of the 
United States and her wonderful possessions. 

“Jist think of it, Tom, the folks in the'East run 
over to Europe to see old ruins and relics and don’t 
have any other idee but that Denver is a place for 
buffaloes and invalids, and I hain’t seen one of either 
class since we landed. Half of the people in Maine 
think that civilization don’t extend quite as fur as 
Buffalo, New York.” 

“As enlightenment increases in this country more 
and more each year, the Down East Yankees who 


TOWARD THE RETTING SUN 


325 


have not traveled will soon be convinced that there 
are things to learn from the West,” replied Tom, 
wishing to humor his father rather than to excite 
another argument. 

The next day they visited Capitol Hill, notable 
for its wide streets, its splendid stone residences, 
its well-kept lawns and its scarcity of shade trees; 
they also went through the famous Elitch Gardens 
and other resorts, and admired the hazy Rockies in 
the distance, encircling the city like a dull ame¬ 
thyst girdle; but Aunt Becky’s steps began to lag 
towards the close of the day. 

“I believe I’m gitting mountain fever,” she de¬ 
clared, after they had returned to the hotel and 
were listening to an orchestra playing on one of the 
balconies. “I feel as stiff as a statue and my 
breath kind of flitters like a humming bird.” 

“I’ll git a doctor right away,” cried Uncle Bob, 
in alarm. 

“I think you needn’t worry, mother. I’m sur¬ 
prised that you stood the fatiguing journey to-day 
as well as you did. It’s only the high altitude and 
you’ll be all right to-morrow,” said Tom, consolingly, 
adding gently in a low tone to Ruth: 

“And how does my lambkin stand the exertion? 
I hope you are not suffering from shortness of 
breath and aches and pains, too.” 

“No, indeed, the air and sunshine seemed to in¬ 
toxicate me and I feel like flying—maybe it’s be¬ 
cause I am so very happy.” 

“May you always be happy and contented, dar¬ 
ling,” said Tom tenderly, pressing her hand. “I 
think the climate has something to do with it, 


326 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


though. It always affects people differently. How 
does it make you feel, father?” 

“Wal, I believe you’d have to git a derrick to move 
me if I stayed very long,” answered the old man 
with a yawn. “I can’t git enough to eat and I want 
to sleep all the time I ain’t eating.” 

“If you ever want a change from the old home¬ 
stead, we’ll come here to Colorado and ranch it 
awhile,” said Tom cheerfully. “Now, mother, I’ll 
get you some medicine and if you feel able we will 
go to Colorado Springs and Manitou in the morning. 
There is a Colorado Midland or Denver Rio Grande 
excursion and we may find a jolly crowd.” 

Aunt Becky was in excellent health and spirits 
when Tom called at her room the following morn¬ 
ing, and after breakfast they left for Colorado 
Springs, which is said to be the home of more mil¬ 
lionaires than any other town of its size in the 
world. From thence they took a trolley car for 
Manitou, the renowned resort with its comfortable 
hotels and bewitching environments. 

They drove through the Cheyenne Canons with 
their picturesque, rocky elevations and majestic 
waterfalls and at last reached the Garden of the 
Gods, w T here a party of tourists, most of them school 
teachers, were mounting a pack of burros to take a 
trip through the classic grounds. In spite of Aunt 
Becky’s disapproval, she was picked up by Tom and 
placed upon a little white burro, while Ruth, Uncle 
Bob and he mounted others and away they started 
upon their novel pilgrimage. 

Those who have enjoyed trips of this kind, know 
how soon the most decorous conventionality relaxes 
and how the hilarity increases in volume as the ex- 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


327 


pedition progresses. The little beasts seem to de¬ 
light in getting as near to the edge of a precipice as 
possible, but so sure-footed are they and so near to 
the ground are the feet of their riders, all sense of 
fear soon vanishes. The restless creatures weave 
around among their companions, brushing and 
scraping the shins of some one of the excursionists, 
as they shamble lazily along in a compact mass, 
their sole animation resulting from the frequent hal¬ 
los of the driver and the stinging crack of his whip. 

“I can’t see them things the driver points out, to 
save my life/’ complained Aunt Becky, trying to 
see the statue of the stage coach carved by Nature 
at the top of the rocky elevation. “I think he must 
be dreaming.” 

“They are very hard to see,” admitted Tom. “I’ve 
often heard that the Garden of the Gods was a dis¬ 
appointment at first, but after one sees it several 
times, its beauty and sublimity is fully appre¬ 
ciated.” 

“The gateway is the most romantic part of it, 
I think,” said Ruth. “It really seems as if the 
Olympian gods had fashioned this wonderful garden 
and that it was at one time inhabited by them.” 

“The crowd’s a little too big to enjoy it though, 
isn’t it, Ruth?” said Tom, as he caught her burro by 
the bridle and tried to make it walk amicably be¬ 
side his own. 

“I beg pardon, Missus; I know I’m gitting un¬ 
comfortably close to you, but blamed if I kin make 
this here animal behave,” apologized Uncle Bob, 
who had unintentionally ridden up beside a very 
fleshy school teacher in a linen duster and green 
goggles. 


328 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Ok we will have to accept the inevitable, since 
we are riding on ill-mannered burros,” said the 
woman, blushing deeply. 

“Blamed if I kin control the beast at all, dodgast 
the luck,” continued Uncle Bob. “I’ve kicked and 
pounded and done everything else, but he jist goes 
ahead and don’t mind it a tarnal bit. They put me 
in mind of a bed of maggots.” 

“Mine is just as unruly,” replied his new compa- 
gnon de voyage. “I hope you will pardon his rude¬ 
ness, too.” 

“Sartinly. If you kin stand it, I kin. We’re 
both big and fat and we’re jammed up here to¬ 
gether like Siamese twins and my circulation has 
stopped on one side and I ’spect yours has, too, but 
it might be worse.” 

This bit of conversation broke the ice and for a 
while they chatted pleasantly until their burros 
stopped and began to graze by the wayside. 

“Why, did you ever!” gasped the woman in sur¬ 
prise. “The rest have gone ahead and the driver 
has lost track of us. For mercy sake, start these 
animals some way!” 

In vain Uncle Bob cudgeled the poor beasts with 
a heavy stick he found by the road; he belabored 
their stolid sides with his fists and kicked them 
until his rheumatic pains became unbearable, using 
language that was commendable for force rather 
than purity, but at last he gave up in despair. 

“Maybe if we both got off and pushed hard, we 
could make them go,” suggested the woman, whose 
hearty laughter had merged into a tremulous piping 
wail. 

“Yes, and the fool things would kick up and leave 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


329 


nothing of us but a grease spot! Old Pike’s Peak 
yonder couldn’t budge ’em,” replied Uncle Bob, in 
helpless disgust. “If I had hold of that driver, I’d 
wring his dodgasted, blasted neck.” 

“Are you married?” asked the woman eagerly. 

“What’s that got to do with you an’ I?” answered 
Uncle Bob. 

“But your wife—” said the woman. 

“Wal, you know when the boys get out for a leetle 
fun, it don’t make much difference whether they’re 
in Skowhegan or atop of Pike’s Peak,” replied Uncle 
Bob, his face fairly beaming with smiles. 

“No, I didn’t mean that—I thought if you were 
married, your wife would soon miss you and send 
back to get us and—Oh, well you know,” said the 
woman, with a suggestive laugh. 

Just as they were about to abandon the burros 
and try to overtake the rest of the party on foot, the 
sharp call and whip-crack of the guide were heard, 
as he dashed around a hillock to their rescue. In¬ 
stantly the little beasts pricked up their ears and 
started on a mad gallop as fast as their stubby 
legs could carry them. Uncle Bob twined all his 
limbs around the burro and yelled and threatened 
and snorted, expecting to be dashed to pieces upon 
the rocks, while his companion, who likewise clung 
to the beast with the tenacity of a prickly burr, 
screamed, wept and wheezed, sitting firmly by his 
side. In a few moments they halted close to the 
Balanced Rock, joining the other tourists, who were 
shouting and crying with laughter. 

“Father, the lady beat you by a neck!” yelled 
Tom, so nearly convulsed his face was purple. “A 


330 XJNCLE BOB AND A UNT BECKY 



Colorado burro discovers Uncle Bob is not o skilled rider. 












































































TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


331 


man can’t beat a woman at anything in Colorado— 
not even at riding a burro!” 

“Wal, I’ll be dodgasted if I ever want to ride an 
other of them tarnal, cussed, long-eared animals 
ag’in as long as I live!” cried the old man, who failed 
to see the humor of the situation. “Why don’t you 
laugh, Becky, and show your ill-manners? Fust 
thing you know, you’ll be spread out on the ground 
like a coat of paint. I don’t see nothing to laugh 
about.” 

“It’s so funny, Bob, every time you git in with a 
strange woman, it always ends in a predicament,” 
replied Aunt Becky, tears streaming from her eyes. 

Other interesting sights were seen about Manitou, 
including the Cave of the Winds and William’s 
Canon, and on the following day they continued 
their picturesque trip by the Denver and Rio Grande 
railway, through the rugged Rocky Mountains, 
where turbulent rivers and roaring torrents foamed 
over broken ledges and dashed into ravines of in¬ 
credible depth. They passed through the warm 
valley in which the town of Florence nestles among 
her alfalfa fields and fertile mesas, finally approach¬ 
ing the famous Royal Gorge, a gigantic gateway, 
hewn through a solid wall of rock. Slowly they 
ascended in bewildering fashion the snow-covered 
mountains crested by Marshall Pass, eleven thou¬ 
sand feet above sea level; from thence they de¬ 
scended abruptly to Grand Junction, with its jungle 
of fruit trees. All along the route, nature with wild 
prodigality had scattered her famous land-marks, 
—a series of marvels that inspired and delighted 
them. 

They were glad, however, when Salt Lake City, 


332 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


the picturesque “City of the Saints,” spread out 
before them, taking her afternoon siesta beneath 
her interminable rows of lofty cottonwood trees, a 
place which at first sight might be a disappoint¬ 
ment immediately after visiting Denver, but whose 
dignity, repose and romantic beauty dwell in the 
mind of the tourist forever afterwards. 


Enjoys a plunge in Utah’s salt waters. 

They were driven to the Knutsford Hotel, where 
after supper they took a stroll through the business 
part of the city with its wide streets and blocks of 
unusual magnitude. 

The felicitous days that followed in this garden 
spot will never be forgotten by blithesome little 
Ruth, who enjoyed all the delights of a courtship 


























TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


333 


conducted by a man of the world, of unlimited ex¬ 
perience, who knew just how to make the party 
comfortable. 

First they visited the Great Salt Lake, upon 
whose glassy surface they floated in black and 
white bathing suits, unharrassed by the anxieties 
and inconveniences which beset bathers in fresh 
water, who must paddle to keep from sinking. Once 
Uncle Bob forgot to keep his arms extended straight 
out as directed and turned over, the salt water fill¬ 
ing his eyes, mouth and nostrils, almost strang¬ 
ling him. He floundered and snorted for a while, 
but finally thrust one of his feet in the soft sand 
and was enabled to get a foothold. For a few min¬ 
utes he stood sputtering and rubbing his eyes until 
able to join in the hearty laugh that followed. 

Then in the evening they entered the Great Salt- 
air Pavilion, where one thousand couples can dance 
comfortably, and with the cool breezes from the 
water gratefully fanning their cheeks, Tom and 
Ruth glided to the inspiring waltzes and two-steps 
of a superb orchestra, while the old people watched 
and admired from an unobtrusive corner, Uncle 
Bob finally saying: 

“I feel like hollering with joy, Becky, every time 
our Tom and Ruth comes slipping around so grace¬ 
fully to the sweet music, to know that they will soon 
be man and wife and begin the matrimonial glide. 
I hope their life will be one long waltz with nary a 
war dance to mar it.” 

“I don’t jist exactly approve of dancing, though,” 
said Aunt Becky, when Uncle Bob’s praises had 
grown excessive. 

“Wal, I’d a heap rather they would be dancing 


334 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


than playing kissing games and hissy-cat like them 
Smith gals at home, who thought it was wrong to 
dance. I don’t think their religious scruples stood 
so much in the way as the conviction that they were 
too blame awkward to learn how.” 

On the following day as they were viewing the 
Mormon Temple and the Tabernacle, set in grounds 
of remarkable beauty, another discussion was pro¬ 
voked between the old people. 

“The Temple is a majestic building, but it is 
almost as severe and mysterious as the Rockies,” 
said Ruth. “The Tabernacle, with its dome-like 
roof, is also one of the wonders of the West. I un¬ 
derstand that a person can drop a pin in the choir 
loft and the sound can be heard in the gallery over 
two hundred feet away, so remarkably perfect are 
its acoustic properties.” 

“Wouldn’t it be awful to hear Mahala Ann sing 
one of her anthems in there?” chuckled Uncle Bob. 

“When a gal gits married she generally gives up 
her singing and other accomplishments,” said Aunt 
Becky reproachfully, for she thought her husband’s 
gibes at Mahala Ann were the acme of hypocrisy. 

“It would be a public benefit if more of ’em could 
git married off,” replied Uncle Bob. “If polygamy 
w r as still in existence w r e might send out a couple 
of carloads of superfluous widders and old maids 
that w 7 ould make good wives and let our old bach¬ 
elors and widowers and grass-w T idow T ers have a 
leetle rest.” 

“I s’pose you’d like to be a Mormon yourself?” 
jerked Aunt Becky. 

“Wal, sometimes I feel like a leetle change would 
be refreshing. Anyway a man wouldn’t be so apt 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


335 


to git lonesome if he had a harem,” replied Uncle 
Bob boldly. 

“Urn sure I never give you a chance to feel lone¬ 
some, did I?” 

“No, you’re purty much of a houseful, Becky, but 
I kin understand how pioneers in a wilderness like 
this was would want to populate it as quick as they 
could, and how raising families became as much of 
a fad as collecting libraries or anything else. Poly¬ 
gamy afforded an open market for women that 
couldn’t git husbands in the East and— 

“I honestly believe you’d like to be a Mormon,” 
interrupted Aunt Becky reproachfully. “When you 
read about Reed Smoot trying to git in the Senate 
from Utah, you used to say his domestic affairs 
wasn’t any of the government’s business and like 
as not his persecutors were jealous ’cause they had 
to be content with one wife apiece. It would take 
five women to keep you straight.” 

“Wal, I’d be mighty partic’lar about choosing 
amiable ones any way,” retorted Uncle Bob. 

“I think any woman that would want you fur a 
husband was purty hard up to git married,” blazed 
Aunt Becky. “Gals nowadays ain’t going to marry 
any old kind of a specimen jist to git a man and 
mebbe have to keep him. A lot of our old spinsters 
—in fact the most of ’em—are unmarried and glad 
of it. The majority of ’em ain’t rich enough fur 
dukes and fortune hunters and are too pesky good 
fur the average man and they’d rather be dead than 
marry scalawags like some of their grandmothers 
did. An old codger like you—” 

“Wal, Becky, you know there is a silver lining be¬ 
hind every cloud.” 


336 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


“Now, let’s don’t have any more arguments, 
Auntie, to spoil our happiness. Just be thankful, 
Uncle Bob, that you have one wife and a good one 
at that,” interposed Ruth, flying to their assistance 
as usual. 

The Hall of Relics, containing all of Brigham 
Young’s sacred paraphernalia, from an old hat to 
the last porous plaster he wore, was also visited, 
and the remainder of the day was spent in sketch¬ 
ing the residence portion of the city. 

“That must be the Amelia Palace, the residence 
of Brigham Young’s seventeenth wife, who, by the 
way, was his favorite,” said Tom, pointing out a 
large frame structure by no means palatial. 

“Oh, she’s the one that kicked the sewing ma¬ 
chine down the stairs ’cause it didn’t suit! I alius 
admired her pluck,” said Aunt Becky. 

“Just think of a man having nineteen wives and 
sixty-four children!” exclaimed Ruth. 

“And think of him living to a good old age, too!” 
said Tom, smiling mischievously. 

“Joseph Smith was a better Mormon than Brig¬ 
ham Young, fur he had five wives and forty-seven 
children. Let me see, if he had as many wives as 
Brigham, he would have 165 children,” said Uncle 
Bob, figuring with a lead pencil upon a slip of paper. 

“That calculation is jist about as sensible as your 
riddle, ‘If it takes thirteen of Widder Slant’s pan¬ 
cakes to cover a meeting house, how many letters 
would there be in a mail bag?’ ” said Aunt Becky 
disdainfully. “You’re so cracked about some 
things.” 

“There is the Beehive, where part of Brigham’s 
immense family lived, including most of his wives,” 


TOWARD THE RETTING SUN 


337 


said Tom, pointing to another large, unpreposses¬ 
sing building. 

“I wonder why they called it the Beehive. Do 
you suppose Brigham meant to be merely polite 
and wished to honor the good works of his wives, 
and named it his Beehive, because it was so full of 
the sweet domesticity?” said Ruth. 

“I think he meant to be ironical,” conjectured 
Tom. “Perhaps he housed up the wives there who 
were inclined to be quarrelsome and jealous and 
stung him with their reproaches.” 

“I ’spect he called it his Beehive ’cause the poor 
bees had to keep busy all the time looking after the 
sixty-four children,” ventured Aunt Becky. 

“And mebbe it was ’cause the women alius kept 
up such an infernal buzz he couldn’t hear himself 
think,” said Uncle Bob, whose opinion was accepted 
without dispute. 

They left for California on the following day, 
passing through Ogden, another celebrated Utah 
city, noted for its fruits and vegetables, and across 
the Great American Desert, during which ordeal 
they chatted about the World’s Fair, read news¬ 
papers and magazines, and tried to forget the 
dreary waste that stretched away in all directions 
as far as the eye could see. 

Leaving Truckee, and nearing the beautiful, pic¬ 
turesque Sierra Nevada mountains, the long train 
with three engines, puffing and snorting as though 
their burden was too great, commenced to make the 
ascent, nine or ten thousand feet above sea-level, 
darting out of one snow-shed to quickly enter an¬ 
other,—a monotonous journey of forty miles, ap¬ 
proaching the tourists’ delight, the famous, histor- 


338 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


ical Downer’s Lake, thousands of feet below the 
snow-capped peaks. 

Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky, peeping out of the 
car windows, were amazed and delighted at the 
beautiful scenery and the deep blue waters, quietly 
resting at the foot of the jagged mountains. 

Aunt Becky, nervous and excited, exclaimed, “For 
land’s sakes, Bob Springer, if this car tips over, 
where will we go?” 

“I reckon, Becky, it wouldn’t make much differ¬ 
ence where we went after we had scraped and tum¬ 
bled over them there pesky, ragged-edged rocks. 
Here we go again!” exclaimed Uncle Bob. “Say, 
Conductor, when are we goin’ to leave these dod- 
gasted boxes?” 

“When we come out of the last one.” 

“Grand! Sublime!” remarked Ruth, as the train 
came out into the open, high above the tree-tops. 

“Yes,” said Tom. “Way back in the ’49’s these 
mountains echoed to the sound of the wild rush of 
the miners and prospectors in their excited search 
for gold. See,” pointing his finger in the direction 
of the mountains which many years ago had been 
leveled by hydraulic machinery and the miner’s 
pick. “Those were lively days in this part of the 
country. Many a man lost life and property in the 
search for the yellow metal, while others made their 
fortunes. Leland Stanford, Huntington, Crocker 
and Sharon are among those w T ho first got their 
start in these hills from Nature’s hidden treasury. 
To these men more than to any others belong the 
credit for having made it possible for us to enjoy 
the luxuries of travel while the train is speeding 
over this very road,” 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN ' 339 


“But,” said Uncle Bob, “didn’t they have to 
squeeze the farmers to get the money to build the 
road and dig these tunnels?” 

“Not at all,” said Tom; “but by pluck and great 
hardship they succeeded in overcoming what 
seemed an almost impossible task. The nation’s 
wealth has been greatly increased by this gigantic 
enterprise, and we owe a debt of gratitude to these 
early pioneers.” 

“I agree with you,” said Ruth. “The men who 
control great wealth are as necessary to the com¬ 
munity and the country’s welfare as the men be¬ 
hind the shovel and the pick.” 

When they reached Sacramento in a valley of 
orange trees, with her stately palms and luxurious 
vegetation, they realized that again they were in 
one of the chosen spots of the Divine Maker. It was 
raining when they arrived in San Francisco, but 
they took a cab and drove to the Palace Hotel, 
where, after dinner and an hour spent in the cool, 
white rotunda, they retired to their rooms. 

San Francisco, wfith her omnipresent rustle of 
activity, her air of western audacity and overpow¬ 
ering enterprise, her palatial residences and mas¬ 
sive public buildings, her unexcelled parks and 
boulevards, her crowds of pleasure seekers as 
smartly attired as those of Gotham, and her many 
other attractions, with the balmy air of the Pacific 
Ocean, combined to fill the Skowhegan tourists with 
new emotions, to which was added the pang pro¬ 
duced by a sudden realization of the finiteness of 
time and space. 

As Uncle Bob expressed it as they walked 


340 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


through the flower-bordered walks of the Sutro 
Gardens: 

^We have been from ocean to ocean and have 
found that even the United States has a jumping- 
off place. All journeys must come to an end, and 
all things decay. Even these beautiful flowers in 
the flush of full bloom will be faded and scattered 
to the four winds and forgotten in a few brief days. 
I wish we could continue to wander on together 
through smiling gardens and green vales like we are 
now doing—jist we four and no more.” 

“Mebbe we will some day and we won’t be both¬ 
ered with cumbersome, aching bodies like we are 
now,” said Aunt Becky, whose optimistic views of 
the hereafter were her greatest source of consola¬ 
tion. 

“At any rate, father, I believe in enjoying the trip 
as we go along and I hope all journeys will have as 
happy an ending as ours will be when we get back 
to the home I left so many years ago,” said Tom 
tenderly. 

“I’d like to see the Leland Stanford University, 
the largest west of the Rockies, and the giant trees 
and violet farms, and many other things that must 
be very interesting, but I, too, am anxious to get 
back, for, after all, there’s no place like home,” 
said Ruth. 

They also saw the Golden Gate and Cliff House, 
from whose windows they looked through tele¬ 
scopes at the rocks in the distance, which were dot¬ 
ted with seals of all ages and sizes, some splashing 
in the water and others basking in the sunshine 
upon ragged-edged rocks. In the afternoon they 
hired a guide, who took them through Chinatowm, 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


341 


where for several hours they were engrossed in 
studying the environments of the queer celestials, 
who lived in the heart of the cosmopolitan city and 
w T ere a vital part of it. They had their fortunes told 
by a Chinese necromancer, who, with the aid of 
little scented sticks labeled with hieroglyphics, told 
Ruth that she would marry a titled foreigner and 



Visits the underground Celestial Colony. 


have six children, and assured Tom that he would 
never marry, which for the moment seemed to pro¬ 
voke him. ” They visited the Joss House, which 
Uncle Bob declared was correctly named, for here 
is where the Chinese devils are consumed by fire. 
In a quaint restaurant they ate Gok Fah Goey Doo, 






























342 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Hong Foo Yung Don, Mut Cum Quat, Lot Day Gee 
Goo and Sliu Op, washing it down with Sue Sin tea 
and finishing the repast with Li-chee nuts, although 
Aunt Becky continually declared that Chinamen 
were unclean and not even a prophet could tell 
what ingredients they used in their preparations. 

Through extraordinary gold-smithing establish¬ 
ments, drug and spice emporiums, crowded fish mar¬ 
kets and other busy places they wended their way, 
stopping to see the Palace Hotel of Chinatown, 
where its tenants sleep six and eight on hard shelves 
in a room to which the light of day. never pene¬ 
trates. They also witnessed a Chinese funeral, 
where the corpse was borne along in great state, 
its approach heralded by loud shouts and the assid¬ 
uous clashing of cymbals. In the first cab a woman, 
presumably widow to the deceased, craned her 
neck through the window and was gazing ahead 
with a gratified smile; but the spectators could not 
tell whether she was pleased at the success of the 
display or the predicament of her spouse. 

In the evening they took the fast Overland Owl 
train for Los Angeles, crossing the great Mojave 
Desert while they were sweetly sleeping in their 
berths, dreaming that they were in the heart of a 
tropical jungle through whose glistening boughs 
Birds of Paradise fluttered, singing strange melo¬ 
dies, while the train speeded through the land of 
flowers. 

They were completely rested when they arrived 
at the “City of the Angels” and spent the first day 
touring through the parks of the captivating city, 
which are bowers in an oasis of bloom and beauty. 
They drove to old San Gabriel Mission and con- 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


343 


versed with the Spaniards who cluster in a peaceful 
hamlet at its feet; they passed through Pasadena, 
whose loveliness has lured to its shrine hundreds of 
wealthy men who'wished to pass their last days in 
peace and quietude; they visited Santa Monica and 
bathed in the Pacific Ocean, and from Mount Lowe 
looked down upon the beautiful valley of orange 
groves and habitations of a prosperous community. 

Having seen the principal points of Southern Cal¬ 
ifornia’s thriving inland city, they were soon speed¬ 
ing over the luxurious Sunset route for New Or¬ 
leans, the pride of the South, who bears upon her 
venerable front the impress of a romantic origin. 

“At last I am in the dear old Crescent City,” said 
Ruth, with a happy sigh of relief, as they leisurely 
walked along its thoroughfare, sweltering in the hot 
sun. 

“Yes, this is the metropolis of the great state in 
which you were born, and it is here that I shall take 
you as my bride and companion for life,” said Tom, 
his face illumined with unspeakable joy. 

They engaged accommodations at one of the lead¬ 
ing hotels, where hurried preparations were made 
for the wedding, which was solemnized in the par¬ 
sonage of the Rev. Mr. Tuttle, a pastor of the Meth¬ 
odist Episcopal church, in compliance with Aunt 
Becky’s request. 

The event took place in a small parlor, conspicu¬ 
ous for its immaculate cleanliness, from the snowy 
curtains to the Smyrna rugs that decorated the pol¬ 
ished floor. Never did a bride look sweeter and 
more lovely, nor a bridegroom happier and more 
manly, than did Ruth and Tom while the sacred 
ceremony was being performed in a bower of olean- 


344 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



'Never did a bride look sweeter. 


























TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


345 


ders and myrtles, the sun shining full upon them 
and crowning the bride’s dusky hair, and its wreath 
of orange blossoms, with an aureole of gold. Aunt 
Becky, in spite of her stoic resistance, would have 
burst into tears of joy, had she not feared that her 
manifestation might be misconstrued, but Uncle 
Bob looked on with infinite pride, hardly able to 
control his insane desire to cheer vociferously, and 
the stately, gray-haired wife of the minister smiled 
in sympathy with them all. 

“This sartinly is a peculiar affair and surely truth 
is stranger than fiction,” said Aunt Becky, after 
kissing the happy pair five or six times in succes¬ 
sion. “I never seen a bride married in blue before; 
they generally wear white and carry white roses 
and look so corpse-like, it ain’t no wonder the bride’s 
mother alius goes into a cryin’ spell. You know the 
old tune goes: ‘Marry in blue and you’ll alius be 
true,’ and you look like an angel in your blue dress, 
dear, and them red roses you hold will bring you 
happiness and contentment. 

“Love alius goes where it’s sent,” said Uncle Bob, 
with immense satisfaction, as he followed his wife, 
shaking his son’s hand with more than paternal 
cordiality and pressing Ruth to his bosom as he 
kissed her repeatedly. 

“Sometimes it’s sent to mighty queer places 
though,” said Aunt Becky. “I don’t believe 
matches are alius made in Heaven, like this one; 
some of ’em are surely made in the other place; 
some of ’em are hatched up at tea parties and 
dances, and some of ’em jist happen—like Lige and 
Mahala’s, for instance.” 

“This marriage was ordained by Providence and 


346 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


resulted from the prayers of two fond parents, 
whose dearest wish was the happiness of their chil¬ 
dren, ?? said Tom, kissing his wife again, upon whose 
drooping lashes tears of happiness gathered as pure 
and bright as the'diamond of the engagement ring 
she had worn but a few days. 

The wedding supper, which was served in the 
hotel, was complete in every detail from the bride’s 
cake with its delicate frosting, surmounted with a 
fanciful castle resembling one of the fairy pavil¬ 
ions they had seen at the World’s Fair, down to 
the little sprigs of white jasmine that lay beside 
each plate. 

On the following day they took the train for Proc- 
torsville, where in compliance with Ruth’s dearest 
wish they searched for her father. None of the 
people they accosted had ever heard of Clyde Bur¬ 
ton or his wife and they were about to give up their 
quest when a retired planter directed them to old 
Aunt Dinah Dorsey, an ex-slave, who was one of 
the pioneers of the quaint town. 

They found a white-washed cabin over-run with 
vines, in a respectable portion of the negro quar¬ 
ters, and in response to a knock an aged colored 
woman, gray and emaciated, wearing a flame red 
turban, opened the screen door and with obsequious 
politeness invited them to enter, at the same time 
limping around to wipe the imaginary dust from the 
few straight-backed chairs which were lined against 
the wall. 

“ ’Deed you’se welcome, ladies and gemmen. It’s 
been a long time since Aun’ Dinah had a visit fum 
de quality,” she said repeatedly. Proctorsville ain’t 
what it was in de ole days befo’ de wah, since so 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


347 


much new folks move in and so much ob de ole fam- 
blies move out,” said the negress, taking a chair 
after her guests had been seated. 

“You must have known all the old families then,” 
said Ruth, with a strange tremor which seemed to 
be the shadow of some portentious monster that 
might destroy her dream of happiness. 

“La, chile, I used to know all de bluebloods and 
de po’ white trash and all de niggahs in dis pa’t 
ob de country. I was a slave in de fambly of ole 
Marse Dorsey.” 

“Perhaps you knew Clyde Burton,” said the girl 
faintly. 

“Deed I did, chile,” replied the old woman, with 
alacrity. “Poor fellow, dey say he done gib up his 
life in Mobile seven yeahs ago, when de yellow fevah 
was ragin’.” 

“Then he is dead!” gasped Ruth, growing very 
pale. 

“Yes, honey, de papahs done say he was daid and 
what de papahs say ob cose mus’ be so.” 

“Did you ever know his wife?” 

“Rose Burton? La sakes, chile, my sistah Phoebe 
was her old cull’d mammy and I know Rose fum a 
li’l baby. Po’ gal, she done disappeared ovah 
twenty yeahs ago wid her baby and de folks tink 
she drownded herse’f in de Mississipp’. No one ain’t 
evah heard tell ob ’em since, and Clyde, he nearly 
kill hisse’f grievin’ and grievin’ arter ’em. -Dey say 
he nevah smile aftah dey lef’.” 

“Why did she drown herself?” asked Ruth, deter¬ 
mined to lift the veil that concealed the mysteries 
of her early infancy. 

“Rose was de daughtah ob Francis Renault, a 


348 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


Frenchman dat belonged to de nobility, and he come 
to dis state and married and move to Proctors- 
ville, and befo’ de wah he owned some ob de fines’ 
lands in dis section. When de wah close he had 
nothin’ let’ and all de ornery niggahs he used to 
clothe and feed and look arter like dey was his 
children, done desert him, ’cept my sistah Phoebe, 
and she stayed till he died. Rose was raised like 
a fine lady and she was de only chile, and all 
de people called her Creole Rose. Laws-a-massy, 
chile, de beaux done tote her around like she was 
a queen and she went to all de big fetes in New Or¬ 
leans and dey all make a big fuss ovali her, but— 
wal, you know how de French and English git 
’long togethah under de same roof! Dey love each 
othah, but don’t understand each othah, and one 
day when Clyde scold her, she didn’t say a word, 
but she jes’ pick up de baby and dey went to de big 
rivah and dey jump in and dat was de las’ of ’em. 
Clyde spend all he had tryin’ to find ’em, but Lowd, 
he might jes’ as well tuk his money and t’rowed it 
away. Dey was bofe han’some and dey was bofe 
proud, and dey bofe had to suffer fo’ it and de poor 
li’l baby, too.” 

“The poor little one was not drowned at all and 
neither was the mother,” said Ruth, tears of grati¬ 
tude filling her eyes, now that the mists had been 
satisfactorily cleared away. “I am Ruth, the 
daughter of Clyde and Rose Burton, and when my 
mother left her home in this place she started for 
Maine to find a distant relative, but was taken 
suddenly ill and died at Skowhegan. It is to these 
kind people with me that I owe my everlasting 


TOWARD THE RETTING SUN 


349 


gratitude, for it was they who reared me and filled 
my life with happiness.” 

“Fo’ de Lawd’s sake, chile,—ole Sistah Phoebe 
prayed fo’ you and yo’ muddah as long as she live, 
and sho’ nuff, her prayers am answered!” cried the 
old woman, clasping her hands together oyer her 
bosom and smiling ecstatically at Ruth. 



Aunt Dinah gives Ruth the picture of her mother. 


“La, Miss, you has de eyes and hair ob Rose, and 
de outlines and white skin ob Clyde Burton! You 
needn’t be ’shamed ob yo’ fambly, honey, do’ dey 
done lost all dar money. Praise de Lawd! I’se 
mighty glad to live to see dis day.” 

For another hour the girl plied the old negress 
































































850 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


with questions, and her heart grew lighter as she 
learned of the good deeds of the Renaults and 
Burtons, and at the close of the harangue, which 
was accompanied with typical African gesticula¬ 
tions, Aunt Dinah gave her a faded daguerreotype 
of her mother, sweet Rose, which old Mammy 
Phoebe had cherished until the hour of her death. 
Tom thanked the old woman and gave her enough 
money to keep her comfortable for years to follow. 

“I should like to know even more about them, 
but still T am so glad that I have learned this 
much,” said Ruth, as they walked down the street, 
followed by Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky, who had 
kept respectfully silent during the strange inter¬ 
view. 

“Let the past bury itself, dearest,” said Tom, ten¬ 
derly. “I would love you just the same, whether 
you were a plain little Skowhegan girl or the scion 
of the venerable Renault and Burton families.” 

Having accomplished their mission, they returned 
to the city, where, after further investigating the 
wonder of this great gateway to South American 
ports, the largest cotton mart in the world, they 
decided to return home as quickly as possible and 
on the following evening they left for Washington, 
D. C. 

When they arrived at what Uncle Bob declared 
was the greatest capital in the world, they set out 
at once to see the White House, notable for its ele¬ 
gant simplicity, also the Capitol, which is the great 
amphitheater of the Potomac, and the Treasury 
Building with its Ionic pillars and scores of spa¬ 
cious apartments. They also took a trip on the 
Potomac to the residence of George Washington at 


TO WARD THE SETTING SUN 


351 


Mt. Vernon, where Uncle Bob’s patriotic rhapsodies, 
so plentiful throughout the trip, reached a grand 
climax in words that would have made the Father 
of Our Country proud to possess such a loyal and 
devoted subject, had he been permitted to hear 
them. 

A day later they were enroute homeward bound, 
stopping at Boston for the purpose of seeing more 
of its many attractions, affording Ruth and Aunt 
Becky the privilege of shopping to their heart’s con¬ 
tent from unstinted pocket-books. On the morning 
following their arrival, Tom went out early, telling 
his wife that he had to look after some important 
business. Three hours dragged slowly by, but he did 
not return. At last she went down to the parlor, 
where the old people were likewise waiting 
patiently. 

“I fear something has happened to Tom,” she 
said, looking anxiously out upon the busy street 
below. 

“Nonsense, child, you mustn’t imagine sich 
things,” said Uncle Bob, who, try as he would, 
could not conceal his agitation. 

“I suppose every girl feels that when she gets a 
good husband amflife’s pathway seems to be strewn 
with roses, it’s too good to last and something w ill 
turn up to spoil it all,” she replied, tremulously. 

“But their doubts were soon dispelled when Tom 
entered, flushed with exertion, dusty and out of 

breath. . ,. , 

“Wliat’s the matter?” cried his wife, rushing to 

his arms. 

“Nothing, my dear,—it’s all over now,” he said, 


352 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


sinking into a great leather chair. “I had an en¬ 
counter with a prodigious monster, but I conquered 
him, just as Hercules did the Lernean hydra, and I 
have brought him to my people as a gift. He is now 
as docile as a well-broken broncho and I can man¬ 
age him with one hand.” 

“You look like you'd been wrastling with that tur- 
rible Tammany tiger,” said Aunt Becky in alarm. 

“Tell us what it was, Tom,” pleaded Ruth. “Are 
you joking, or did you really get into trouble?” 

“Behold my captive!” cried the mischievous Tom, 
drawing back the window curtain and pointing 
down to the street below. 

“It’s an automobile—a big, comfortable, brand 
new automobile!” exclaimed Ruth, clapping her 
hands. 

“That’s the thing they call a rich man’s toy, but 
the good, everyday, common-sense way of traveling 
is good enough for me,” said Uncle Bob. 

“Well, Bob, we might as well be out of the world 
as to be out of fashion, so if Tom is good enough to 
give us this pleasure, we should appreciate it,” 
replied Aunt Becky. 

“Yes, it’s all ours, and after taking a little spin 
this morning, I’ll have it shipped straight through 
to Skowhegan, to remain there at the depot until 
called for, and then we’ll ride to the house-warming 
in grand style,” returned Tom, as pleased as a 
schoolboy with a new top. 

“I’d be skeered to death every minute,” said Aunt 
Becky, shuddering violently. “The machine might 
git to going and never stop, and we’d skeer the 
hosses and mebbe break our necks. That would be 
a turrible ending after all the pleasure we have 


TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


353 


bad. Besides how would the secretary of the Band 
of Hope look riding back to Skowhegan on a red— 
Satan?” 

“You’d look a heap more respectable than you 
did the morning you left behind them oxen,” 
laughed her husband, who had changed his idea of 
sticking close to nature to that of more modern 
methods. 

They were too excited to eat their luncheon and 
as soon as they had finished, Tom helped them into 
the automobile and they took a long ride, seeing 
nothing but their new vehicle. At the close of their 
journey Aunt Becky’s fears had subsided and they 
were all jubilant. 

A few days later they were on the way to Skow¬ 
hegan and found the precious automobile, with its 
gay trimmings, occupying the greater part of the 
baggage-room. It was the work of but a few min¬ 
utes for Tom to properly adjust it and to get Uncle 
Bob and Aunt Becky comfortably settled on the 
rear seats, after which he placed Ruth in front, and 
springing in beside her, he grasped the lever with 
a loud halloo, and they whizzed over rough and 
dusty roads toward the old homestead. 

“I wonder if Lige Knaggs got our telegram all 
right,” said Uncle Bob, as they neared the long- 
coveted goal, which was tuneful with the melodies 
of birds and redolent with the perfume of lilacs. 

“Yes, he must have received it all right. I told 
him not to meet us at the train with the old oxen 
as we were not certain as to the exact time of ar¬ 
rival,” replied Tom. 

“I almost wish the trip were not so near to an 
end,” said Ruth, earnestly, looking into the eyes of 


354 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


her husband, as he bent towards her. “It’s all been 
so happy—just like a dream of Heaven.” 

“This is only the beginning, darling,” said Tom 
tenderly, drawing her closer to his side. “May we 
ride through life side by side just as we are now 
doing for many, many years to come.” 

“Watch out, Tom, you’re going to run in the gut- 



“There is Hi Pratt's barn," said Uncle Bob. 


ter and bust the biler of this dodgasted machine,” 
remonstrated Uncle Bob, laughing boisterously, and 
likewise edging closer to his faithful companion. 

“Why, Bob Springer, are you so citified that you 
don’t know a turnpike ditch from a gutter?” ex¬ 
claimed Aunt Becky, in disgust. 


























TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


355 


“Oh there is Hi Pratt’s barn,” cried Uncle Bob. 

“And there is the dear old homestead smothered 
with vines and guarded by the apple trees and the 
pigeon cote, and there is the chicken yard and the 
old red barn and the cool, green meadows and the 
forest and the hills beyond! I’m so glad to get 
back!” cried Ruth in delight. 

“Yes, yes, how inviting it looks and how glad I 
am to breathe the air and enjoy the home of my 
childhood! Even the old school-house off there in 
the distance, where I spent my early days learning 
to read and figure, awakens a thousand fond mem¬ 
ories,” said Tom, sharing her exultation. 

“And there are several rigs hitched to our racks 
and a lot of children playing in the yard. They must 
be fixing to give us a house-warming that will break 
the record in Skowhegan. I kin smell Mahala Ann’s 
cookies and pies,” chimed in Uncle Bob. 

“Toot your horn, Tom! Blow a strong blast and 
let ’em know we’re coming,” said Aunt Becky, with 
an unusual burst of pride and enthusiasm. 

“I bet none of ’em ever seen a bald-headed go-cart 
like this before, and like as not they’ll all take to 
their heels when they see us cornin’,” chuckled Uncle 
Bob as Tom blew a long shrill sound. 

“See, there they come!” cried Ruth, clapping her 
hands gleefully. “There is widow Hoskins and seven 
or eight of her children, and there is Rube Wattles 
with his slippery-elm cane, and Hi Pratt and Lige 
Knaggs and Elvira Dingle and Granny Butters and 
the Smith girls and oh, a whole lot more!—And 
there is Mahala Ann in a long white apron, waving 
a towel!” 


856 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 



Return home in automobile satisfied to live 
a contented future 



TOWARD THE SETTING SUN 


357 


“Our old farmhouse looks like Brigham Young’s 
Beehive,” said Uncle Bob gaily. “Wal, the more the 
merrier. We’ll have the jolliest time the old home¬ 
stead ever knowed, fur the Prodigal Son is return¬ 
ing and with him comes his charming bride.” 

“Fur mercy sake, look at Widder Slant running 
to meet us!” exclaimed Aunt Becky. “She’s way 
ahead of all the rest and like as not she’ll fall down 
and git run over if she don’t slow up a leetle.” 

“I ’spect she remembers my promise to bring her 
back an old widower if I found a suitable one, but 
blamed if I’d even recommend her to Mephisto. She 
looks like a fat doughnut spilt out of a dinner 
basket,” said Uncle Bob, who even in the midst of 
his joy had no use for the famous Skowhegan gossip. 

“Bob, she’s as welcome as anyone else. She’s a 
good-hearted soul and a woman who hain’t got much 
intellect is apt to over talk herself and shouldn’t be 
held responsible,” replied Aunt Becky, craning her 
neck forward to view the approaching delegation, 
which included at least half a hundred people of all 
ages and of various strata of Skowhegan society. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

“That’s Hi Pratt shooting blank cartridges 
again,” said Ruth, laughing merrily. 

“Slow up a leetle, Tom,” entreated Aunt Becky. 
“Let’s keep ’em guessing and give ’em a chanst to 
admire our self-movin’ she-bang.” 

“Hurrah for old Skowhegan!” shouted Uncle Bob, 
springing to his feet and weaving his hat as if he 
were listening to a campaign speech that merited 
continual applause. “I never appreciated Mahala 
Ann’s graduating valedictory until now; but it’s 
true, every word of it: 


358 


UNCLE BOB AND AUNT BECKY 


‘Oh happy home of childhood, strange that we can never feel, 
How deeply in our hearts thy spirit dwells. 

Until we Wander from thy care, and recollections steal 
Into our dreams, like distant, chiming bells! 

For though we travel through the world to profit and to learn, 
From coast to coast, through cities great and small, 

There comes a time when tired souls would willingly return 
To old Skowhegan-dearest place of all!’” 

“Becky, we have seen the world, we have been 
round the hull country, and now we return to the 
old homestead farm, amazed with the wonders of 
the past—satisfied to live a contented future.” 









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